A  TALE  OF  THE  LOST  COLONY 


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Lib.  lOM-Fe  '38 


JOHN     VYTAL 


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John  Vytal 

j4   Tale  of 
The   Lost    Colony 


BY 


WILLIAM  FARQUHAR  PAYSON 


New  York  and  London 

Harper    fir    Brothers    Publishers 

1901 


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Copyright,  1901,  by  Harper  &  Brothers. 


Ail  rights  reserved. 


"  He  was  one  of  a  lean  body  and  visage,  as  if 
his  eager  soul,  biting  for  anger  at  the  clog  of  his 
body,  desired  to  fret  a  passage  through  it." 

Thomas  Fuller 


Foreword 

No  epoch  in  American  history  is  more  essentially 
romantic  than  that  in  which,  for  a  few  years,  less 
than  one  hundred  colonists  from  England  lived  on 
the  island  of  Roanoke,  off  the  coast  of  old  Virginia. 
Nevertheless,  although  the  history  of  our  continent, 
from  the  landing  of  Columbus  lo  the  end  of  the  Span- 
ish-American war,  has  been  exhaustively  exploited 
in  fiction,  the  pages  dated  1587-1598  seem  to  have 
been  left  unturned.  Yet  the  life  of  the  Roanoke 
colony  contained  not  only  adventure,  hazard,  and 
privation  in  a  far  greater  degree  than  the  maturer 
settlements  of  later  years,  but  also  an  underlying 
emblematical  element,  and  in  its  end  an  insoluble 
riddle.  In  being  thus  both  mystical  and  mysterious, 
it  paramountly  inspires  romance. 

The  mystery  has  filled  many  pages  of  history,  but 
always  as  an  enigma  without  solution.  The  fate  of 
the  colony  is  utterly  unknown,  historians  of  necessity 
relegating  it  to  the  limbo  of  oblivion. 

Bancroft,  for  one,  concludes  his  account  of  the 
colonization  thus: 

"  The  conjecture  has  been  hazarded  [by  Lawson  and  others] 
that  the  deserted  colony,  neglected  by  their  own  countrj^men. 
were  hospitablj^  adopted  into  the  tribe  of  Hatteras  Indians,  and 
became  amalgamated  with  the  sons  of  the  forest.  This  was  the 
tradition  of  the  natives  at  a  later  day^  and  was  thought  to  be  con- 
firmed bj^  the  physical  character  of  the  tribe  in  which  the  Eng- 
lish and  the  Indian  race  seemed  to  have  been  blended.  Raleigh 

V 


Foreword 

long  cherished  the  hope  of  discovering  some  vestiges  of  their  ex- 
istence, and,  though  he  had  abandoned  the  design  of  colonizing 
Virginia,  he  yet  sent,  at  his  own  charge,  and,  it  is  said,  at  five 
several  times,  to  search  for  his  liege-men.  But  it  was  all  in  vain  ; 
imagination  received  no  help  in  its  attempts  to  trace  the  fate  of 
the  colony  of  Roanoke." 

Opposing  this  view,  many  authorities  beHeve  that 
a  massacre  occurred  by  which  many  of  the  Enghsh 
suffered  at  the  hands  of  hostile  savages.  In  the  en- 
suing story,  however,  1  have  ventured  to  explain 
the  oblivion  of  the  colony's  end  in  a  way  which  1 
believe  has  not  yet  been  suggested. 

After  this  preamble  I  hasten  to  assure  the  reader 
— perhaps  already  surfeited  with  historical  novels — 
that  he  shall  find  scarce  more  of  history  in  the 
whole  tale  following  than  in  the  foreword  just  con- 
cluded. The  "manners  and  customs''  also  are 
rigidlj^  suppressed.  1  have  made  bold,  though,  to 
use  several  of  the  colonists'  names  which  have  been 
preserved,  but  the  conception  of  character  is  my 
own. 

W.  F.  P. 


:boo\{  ir 


John    Vytal 

A   Tale   of  the    Lost    Colony 


CHAPTER  I 


"...  framed  of  finer  mould  than  common  men.'' 

— Marlowe,  in  The  Jew  of  Malta. 

It  is  not  to  yesterday  that  we  would  take  you  now, 
but  to  a  day  before  innumerable  yesterdays,  across 
the  dead  sea  of  Time  to  a  haven  mutable  yet  immor- 
tal. For  the  Elizabethan  era  is  essentially  of  the 
quick,  although  its  dead  have  lain  entombed  for  cen- 
turies. The  world  of  that  renascent  period,  alight 
with  the  spontaneous  fire  of  intellectual  and  passion- 
ate life,  shines  through  the  space  of  ages  as  though 
then,  for  the  first  time,  it  had  been  cast  off  from  a 
pregnant  sun. 

Overcoming  the  remoteness  of  the  epoch  by  an  ap- 
preciation of  this  vivid  reality,  we  pause  at  the  out- 
set near  the  great  south  gate  of  London  Bridge  as 
it  stood  three  centuries  ago. 

On  a  certain  April  afternoon  the  massive  stones 
and  harsh  outlines  served  to  heighten  by  con- 
trast the  effect  of  lithe  grace  and  nonchalance  ap- 
parent in  the  figure  of  a  young  man,  w^ho,  leaning 
lightly  against  the  barbacan,  presented  a  memorable 


John  Vytal 

picture  of  idleness  and  ease.  Yet  a  fleeting  expres- 
sion in  the  youthful  face  belied  the  indolence  of  atti- 
tude. For  in  more  ways  than  one  "  Kind  Kyt  Mar- 
lowe'' resembled  the  spring-tide,  whose  tokens  of 
approach  he  intuitively  recognized.  His  eyes,  usu- 
ally soft  and  slumberous  with  the  light  of  dreams, 
now  and  again  shone  brilliant  like  black  diamonds. 
With  all  his  careless  incontinence,  he  possessed  a 
latent  power,  a  deep,  indeterminable  force,  portend- 
ing broad  hot  days  and  nights  of  storm. 

His  face,  mobile  dark  and  passionate,  showed  an 
almost  alarming  intensity.  His  brow,  lofty  but  not 
massive,  was  surmounted  by  silken  hair  so  black 
as  to  appear  almost  purple  in  the  sunlight.  He  wore 
no  beard,  a  small  mustache  adding  to  the  refinement 
of  his  features,  save  for  the  fulness  of  his  lips,  which 
it  could  not  hide.  Taken  as  a  whole,  his  face  was 
the  face  of  a  man  who  had  no  common  destiny ;  of  a 
man  who  would  drain  the  cup  and  leave  no  dregs,  be 
the  draught  life-elixir  or  poison ;  of  a  man,  in  short, 
who  might  all  but  transcend  his  humanity  by  the 
fulness  of  life  within  him,  or  be  suffocated  and 
overwhelmed  by  the  very  superabundance  of  that 
life.  For  there  are  some  seeming  to  be  born  with 
a  double  share  of  vitality,  a  portion  far  greater  than 
was  meant  for  man ;  and  when  this  vitality,  matur- 
ing, begins  its  re-creation,  threatening  all  feebler 
forms  with  a  new  revolutionary  condition,  then  the 
error  is  apparently  discovered  and  the  entire  share 
of  life  recalled. 

Christopher  Marlowe  was  one  of  these  men,  but 
as  he  leaned  against  the  Southwark  Gate,  that  after- 
noon in  early  life,  looking  up  the  High  Street  through 
the  gathering  dusk,  his  eyes  showed  little  more  than 
the  cheerful  glow  of  a  wood-fire,  the  mere  hint  of  an 
unrestrainable  flame  underlying  their  expression. 

4 


A  Tale  of  the  Lost  Colony 

Soon,  however,  the  poet's  reverie  was  broken.  The 
afternoon's  bear-baiting  being  over,  and  Southwark's 
amphitheatre  empty  of  its  throngs,  a  number  of  the 
earhest  to  leave  were  now  upon  the  High  Street, 
known  then  as  Long  Southwark.  Seeing  them  ap- 
proaching him  on  their  way  to  London,  Marlowe 
turned  and  walked  in  the  same  direction. 

At  the  sign  of  ''The  Three  Bibles''  books  and 
broadsides  were  for  sale.  It  was  this  small,  an- 
tiquated den  on  London  Bridge  that  the  author 
sought  with  the  unconscious  step  of  one  who  fol- 
lows a  familiar  way. 

He  had  but  just  entered  the  low-studded,  gloomy 
shop,  and  greeted  Paul  Merfin,  its  owner,  when  the 
scabbard  of  a  sword  clanked  on  the  threshold,  and  a 
man  of  great  stature,  accoutred  as  a  soldier,  dark- 
ened the  doorway.  With  no  prelude  of  salutation, 
the  new-comer  demanded  of  Merfin,  in  a  voice  of  anx- 
iety, "Tell  me,  hast  seen — ?"  Then  for  the  first 
time  he  became  aware  of  Marlowe's  presence,  and, 
lowering  his  heavy  tones  to  a  whisper,  finished  his 
query  in  the  bookseller's  ear. 

"  Nay,"  was  Merfin's  answer,  "  I  have  seen  nothing 
of  him." 

The  soldier's  face  grew  yet  more  uneasy.  ''Ill 
fortune!"  he  exclaimed;  "it  is  always  so,"  and  he 
would  have  left  the  shop  had  not  Marlowe  detained 
him. 

"Stay,"  said  the  poet,  "I  could  not  but  hear  your 
question,  for  your  whisper,  sir,  being  no  gentler  than 
a  March  wind,  nips  the  ear  whether  we  will  or  no. 
So  you,  I  take  it,  are  that  giant,  Hugh  Rouse,  who 
follows  the  Wolf.  Of  you  twain  I  have  heard  much, 
and  wondered  if  the  tales  from  the  South  were  true 
that  told  of  so  great  a  courage.  I  have  seen  the  man, 
show  me  now  the  master." 


John   Vytal 

"Would,  sir,  that  I  could,  but  I  know  not  where 
the  master  is.  And  who,  may  I  ask,  are  you,  that 
show  so  deep  an  interest?'' 

"'  Not  one  to  be  feared,''  returned  Marlowe,  smiling ; 
"  an  idle  poet  who  has  sung  of  braver  men  than  his 
eyes  have  yet  beheld,  and  would  see  a  man  still  braver 
than  the  song — Kyt  Marlowe,  at  your  service,  good 
my  Rouse,"  and  so  saying,  the  poet,  with  a  hand 
through  the  big  soldier's  arm,  led  the  way  from  the 
shop  out  to  the  High  Street  of  Southwark.  "  Had 
you  not  another  comrade  in  the  wars,  a  vagabond 
of  most  preposterous  paunch  and  waddling  legs? 
I  have  heard  that  he,  too,  follows  milord,  the  Wolf." 

''There  is  such  an  one,"  said  Rouse,  ''but,  alack! 
he  also  is  missing.  I  pray  you,  though,  call  not  our 
leader '  Wolf '  again ;  none  save  fools  and  his  enemies 
so  name  him." 

"  But  I  have  heard  that  he  is  ferocious  as  a  wolf, 
lean  and  very  gray.     The  sobriquet  is  not  ill-fitting. " 

"  Nay,"  said  the  soldier,  "  in  truth  it  fits  most  aptly 
in  description  of  his  looks,  for  though  he  is  but  five- 
and-thirty,  his  head  and  beard  are  grizzled,  that  be- 
fore were  black  as  night." 

"  'Tis  not  strange,"  observed  the  poet,  leading 
his  new  acquaintance  toward  a  favorite  hostelry; 
"  campaigning  in  the  South  ages  many  a  man  before 
his  time." 

Ay,  but  that  is  not  all." 
What  more,  then?" 

"It  is  briefly  told,"  answered  the  soldier.  "His 
father  was  sent  by  her  Majesty,  our  queen,  with  mes- 
sages to  Henry  of  Navarre,  in  whose  army  we  two 
fought  side  by  side.  The  envoy  and  his  wife,  who 
were  passing  through  Paris — " 

"What!"  interrupted  the  poet,  "were  they  his  par- 
ents?    I  had  forgot  the  story.     It  was  the   night 

6 


(C 


A  Tale   of  the    Lost  Colony 

when  Papists  murdered  Huguenots,  the  night  of  St. 
Bartholomew.  An  Enghshman  and  his  wife  were 
slain  ere  their  son,  who  had  come  from  the  South  to 
warn  them,  could  intervene.  He  saw  his  mother 
struck  down,  saw  the  sword  and  the  bared  breast  in 
the  glare  of  a  dozen  torches,  and  saw  his  father  killed, 
too,  after  a  brief  struggle.  Then  the  youth,  who  had 
cut  his  way  nearer  to  the  scene,  found  himself  beset 
on  all  sides  by  a  bristling  thicket  of  steel  that  no  man 
could  divide.  He  fell.  The  Catholics  laughed  and 
left  him  for  dead  across  the  bodies  of  his  parents. 
But  the  lad  was  not  so  easily  undone.  He  rose, 
despite  a  wound  beneath  the  heart,  and,  dripping 
blood,  carried  the  two  dead  forms  to  the  Seine,  where, 
in  the  shadow  of  the  Pont  Neuf,  he  weighted  his  bur- 
dens with  stones  and  buried  them  beyond  the  reach 
of  desecration.  The  tale  came  to  me  as  come  so 
many  legends  of  the  wars  from  nameless  narrators. 
That  youth,  then,  is — " 

John   Vytal,"   concluded   the   soldier,    gravely. 

He  had  fought  before  then  at  Jamac  and  Moncon- 
tour;  but  now  he  warred  against  the  Catholics  with 
redoubled  fury.  'Twas  through  him,  I  tell  you,  came 
the  victorious  peace  of  BeauUeu  and  Bergerac,  and 
the  fall  of  Cahors." 

''Find  me  this  man!''  The  words  burst  from  the 
young  poet  in  a  voice  of  eager,  impetuous  command. 

I  must  see  him!'' 

He  was  to  have  been  at  the  '  Tabard '  two  hours 
since,"  returned  the  soldier,  despondently,  "  but  came 
not." 

"Then  let  us  return  thither  and  wait  for  him  a 
year,  if  need  be.     He  will  come  at  last,  'tis  sure." 

The  narrow  way  on  the  bridge  near  by  was  now 
choked  with  its  evening  throngs,  and,  as  day- 
light began  to  fade,  a  babble  of  many  tongues  rose 

7 


tf 


(I 


John   Vytal 

and  fell  in  the  streets  of  Southwark,  with  which 
the  creaking  song  of  tavern  signs,  aswing  in  the 
evening  breeze,  blent  an  invitation  to  innumerable 
stragglers  from  the  bear-fight. 

"Eh,  now/'  said  Rouse  to  one  of  these  who  joined 
him,  ''do  you  honor  the  'Spurre,'  Tom  Watkins,  or 
the 'King's  Head'?" 

"Nay,  neither,  Hugh;  they  lack  that  mustiness 
and  age  which  make  the  inn.  For  this  there's  none 
like  the  '  Tabard,'  that  being  a  most  ancient  hostel. 
D'ye  know  w^hat  'Tabard'  is?" 

"Nay,  poorly;  some  kind  o'  garment,  Tve  heard/' 

"It  is,  Hugh;  a  jacket  with  no  sleeves,  slit  down 
from  the  armpits  and  winged  on  the  shoulders. 
Thou'lt  see  it  on  the  tavern  sign.  Only  the  heralds 
wear  the  things  to-day,  and  call  'em  coats-of-arms  in 
service.  Now,  d'ye  see,  it's  meet  that  I,  a  breeches- 
maker,  should  mind  me  of  other  attire  as  well,  and 
not  go  breast-bare  about  the  town.  So,  Hugh  Rouse, 
I  make  my  breeches  by  day,  and  I  put  on  my  tabard 
by  night,  thank  the  Lord,  and  I'm  a  well-arrayed 
coxcomb,  ye'll  allow.     But  here  we  are;  get  you  in." 

The  speaker,  a  thin  fellow  of  middle  age  and  height, 
laughed  over  this  oft-repeated  joke  till  his  sallow  face 
looked  like  a  tangle  of  his  own  leathern  thongs, 
showing  all  its  premature  WTinkles,  and  his  bent 
shoulders  shook  convulsively;  yet  there  was  no 
sound  in  the  laughter  save  a  kind  of  whispered  crackle 
like  the  tearing  of  stiff  paper. 

On  entering  the  inn,  Marlowe  and  the  soldier 
sought  an  obscure  corner,  but  Thomas  Watkins,  the 
breeches-maker,  being  a  character  of  no  small  popu- 
larity among  the  worthies  of  the  borough,  and  one 
who  had  the  commiseration  of  many,  for  good  and 
sufficient  reasons,  seeing  the  tap-room  already  well 
filled,  remarked  thereon  to  the  host,  after  his  usual 

8 


em 


A  Tale   of  the    Lost   Colony 

manner  of  forced  joviality.  ''How  now,  have  I  al- 
lowed myself  to  be  forestalled  and  beaten  in  our  race 
from  the  gardens  to  your  spigot?''  He  surveyed  the 
tables.with  their  dice-boxes,  cards,  and  foaming  cups, 
feigning  an  astonished  air.  Several  of  the  guests 
looked  up  at  him,  laughing,  with  a  certain  indulgent, 
almost  pitying,  amusement.  Simon  Groat,  the  tav- 
ej^n-keeper,  smiled,  too,  in  fat  good-humor. 

'' 'Tis  not  often  so,''  he  returned;  ''you  know  the 
saying,  Thomas,  that  the  breeches  3^ou  make  your- 
self are  unusual  easy  for  quick  running  to  the  tavern, 
and  uncommon  broad  and  thick  in  the  seat,  that  you 
may  sit  on  our  ale- bench  by  the  hour  with  small  wear 
to  them."  The  crowd  laughed  yet  more  heartily  at 
this,  though  many  had  heard  the  same  stock  jest 
before.  "  But  now,  to  tell  truth,  Tom,  ye're  the 
very  first  from  the  gardens."  He  lowered  his  voice. 
"These  be  soldiers,  as  you  see.  Some  arrived  at 
Portsmouth  from  the  Low  Countries  last  month,  and 
already  must  sally  forth  again,  most  madly,  me- 
thinks,  on  the  perilous  Virginia  voyage." 

The  breeches-maker  glanced  about  him  for  the 
first  time  with  a  close  attention  to  the  room's  occu- 
pants. For  the  most  part  they  were  unknown  to  him, 
several  wearing  the  unmistakable  air  of  fighting  men. 
But  his  scrutiny  was  suddenly  interrupted  by  the 
entrance  of  others  more  familiar  in  appearance. 
Leading  the  new  arrivals  into  the  tap-room  came  a 
short,  nervous  man,  very  thin  both  of  body  and  voice. 
As  he  saw  Watkins,  his  face,  which  had  been  eager, 
showed  disappointment.  "Faugh!"  he  ejaculated, 
turning  to  Groat ;  "  Tom's  told  you. " 

The  host  looked  as  surprised  as  a  very  bland,  cor- 
pulent person  can.    "  Nay,  Peter,  what's  he  told  me?" 

The  expression  of  Peter  Sharp,  needle-maker  by 
trade,  news-monger  by  preference,  grew  eager  again. 

9 


John  Vytal 

"That's  like  Tom/'  he  declared.  ''Some  observa- 
tion concerning  the  ale-tap  instead  of  a  good  story, 
ril  warrant/'  He  turned  to  his  fellow-guests,  with 
the  exception  of  those  who  had  entered  behind  him. 
"Were  none  of  ye  there/'  he  asked,  "to  see  a  most 
astounding  bear-baiting?" 

The  soldiers  looked  up  with  interest  from  their 
games.  Marlowe  and  Rouse  in  particular  showed 
a  keen  attention  to  the  speaker.  "Alack!"  whis- 
pered Rouse,  "I  knew  he'd  do  it."  But  his  com- 
panion, all  ears  for  what  was  coming,  made  a  cautious 
gesture  commanding  silence,  and  said  nothing. 

"This  is  how  it  happened,"  began  the  needle- 
maker,  now  sure  of  an  attentive  audience.  "  First, 
Old  Sarcason — by  Heaven,  the  gamest  bear,  as  I 
thought,  that  ever  entered  ring! — came  badly  off. 
The  wards  must  needs  grab  every  dog's  tail  and  pull 
it  might  and  main  to  hold  them  back  from  killing 
him.  But  Harry  Hunks  gave  better  fight,  and  nearly 
hugged  a  mastiff  pup  to  death.  And  Little  Bess  of 
Bromley,  too — ye  should  have  seen  her  punish  Queen 
Elgifa,  a  noble  slut  in  her  day.  I've  rarely  seen  so 
great  sport  at  public  baiting ;  but  Bruin  and  his  wards 
were  on  their  mettle.  The  French  ambassador  was 
there.  At  the  end  they  had  a  new  pastime  in  store  for 
us.  And  here  came  the  trouble.  Leading  a  small 
brute — him  they  call  King  Lud — faith,  little  more  than 
cub,  but  strong  as  iron  and  uncommon  savage,  be- 
ing a  son  of  Old  Sarcason  and  Little  Bess — out  they 
come  with  him,  and  blind  his  eyes.  Then,  tying  him 
fast  to  the  post,  they  flog  his  hide,  each  with  a  leath- 
ern whip,  till  the  blood  runs.'"  Whereat  down  jumps 
from  a  seat  near  the  ring  a  man  we  knew  not,  tall  and 

*  Incredible  as  it  may  seem,  this  despicable  deed  of  cruelty 
has  been  authentically  recorded  by  writers  of  the  time. 

10 


A  Tale   of  the   Lost   Colony 

travel-stained,  and  says  that  they  should  stop  their 
'wanton  sport/  And  following  him  into  the  ring 
jumps  a  clownish  fellow  of  low  stature  and  round 
paunch,  like  a  stage  jester  in  appearance.  They  both 
carried  arms,  the  first  a  rapier,  the  mountebank  a 
broadsword  half  his  own  length.  We  thought,  then, 
it  was  all  arranged,  some  new-conceived  buffoonery 
to  finish  the  baiting.  Quick  as  can  be,  the  two,  with 
drawn  swords,  went  forward  and  untied  the  bear, 
about  whose  back  a  lash  still  whistled.  'Tie  him  up,' 
says  the  tall  man,  pointing  to  one  of  the  floggers. 
And  suddenly  'twas  done  before  we  knew  it.  There 
stood  Sir  Knight  of  the  Whip  tied  to  the  post  in  place 
of  King  Lud,  and  writhing  most  horribly,  while  the 
pot-bellied  little  clown  danced  about  him,  plying  the 
self-same  lash  for  dear  life.  In  the  mean  time  the 
other — of  high  station,  I  take  it,  despite  his  weather- 
worn garb — calmly  unblinds  the  bear  and  turns  him 
toward  the  sight  at  the  whipping-post.  The  wards 
stood  speechless,  for  Master  Long-man  held  his  rapier 
ready,  and  a  pistol  stuck  out  at  his  belt/^ 

The  needle-maker  paused  for  breath,  and,  having 
a  certain  dramatic  instinct,  called  for  a  flagon  of  ale, 
in  order  to  postpone  his  climax.  The  other  inmates 
of  the  tavern  now  listened  to  the  nervous  little  story- 
teller with  keen  interest  and  some  excitement.  The 
pair  in  a  corner  waited  breathlessly  for  the  end.  From  k 
time  to  time  as  the  narrative  had  proceeded  the  bigger 
of  the  two  could  scarcely  suppress  his  agitation,  but, 
being  restrained  by  Marlowe,  he  managed  to  voice 
the  alarm  he  felt  by  no  more  than  some  occasional 
smothered  ejaculation,  such  as,  "  I  knew  he'd  do  it!'' 
or,  ''In  troth,  he  was  ever  thusl" 

"  But  the  most  astonishing  incident  is  yet  to  come," 
resumed  Peter  Sharp,  wiping  the  ale-foam  from  his 
lips.     "  No  sooner  did  King  Lud  see  what  was  going 

II 


John  Vytal 

forward  than  along  he  shambled  slowly  toward  the 
clownish  fellow,  and,  standing  up  on  his  hind  legs, 
put  a  great  paw  on  each  of  the  little  man's  shoulders, 
and  looked  at  him  in  a  most  friendly  way  as  dogs  do. 
Whereat  the  mountebank  dropped  his  whip  and  spoke 
to  his  superior  officer,  as  I  took  the  other  to  be.  Then 
Sir  Soldier,  drawing  out  a  fat  purse  and  turning  to 
the  Master  of  the  Sports,  who  was  even  now  coming 
into  the  ring  in  great  dismay,  nodded  and  delivered 
the  purse  into  his  hands.  At  that  the  stout  retainer 
made  a  comical  bow  to  all  the  people  around  the  ring, 
as  who  should  say,  'I  hope  we  have  ainused  you,' 
and,  leading  King  Lud  by  his  chain,  calmly  walked 
out  of  the  arena.  From  this  we  felt  all  the  more  sure 
that  it  had  been  part  of  the  performance.  But  I  could 
not  believe  that  the  angry  and  amazed  looks  of  him 
who  had  been  flogged  in  Bruin's  place,  and  of  the 
wards,  were  feigned.  Moreover,  when  the  tall  man 
left,  he  says  to  us  all :  '  Call  ye  yourselves  men  and 
watch  such  sports  as  these?  Get  ye  to  your  kennels 
with  the  other  dogs.'  Whereupon  he,  too,  walked 
from  the  ring  slowly.  It  was  all  done  with  such 
despatch  by  him,  and  such  a  ready  wit  by  his  servant, 
that  they  befooled  us  utterly.  Thinking  it  a  comi- 
cality, no  man  in  all  the  audience  took  action,  and  the 
few  below  us  in  the  ring,  being  so  terrified  and  be- 
wildered by  the  sudden  remonstrance  and  show  of 
arms,  stood  dumfounded.  But  even  then,  I  think, 
they  might  have  regained  their  senses  in  time  to  send 
•  the  twain  to  jail  had  not  the  Master  of  the  Sports  ad- 
vised against  pursuit,  being,  as  I  believe,  well  requited 
for  King  Lud  and  not  unfamiliar  with  his  purchaser." 
The  needle-maker  raised  his  cup  and  drank  deep, 
while  a  buzz  of  conversation  began  about  him.  A 
look  of  unspeakable  relief  had  come  to  the  faces  of 
the  soldier  and  the  poet  in  the  comer. 

12 


A  Tale    of  the    Lost   Colony 

Toward  this  pair  the  eyes  of  a  group  across  the 
room  were  frequently  directed.  Among  the  latter 
company  one  figure  was  particularly  noticeable, 
being  that  of  a  very  young  man,  of  medium  size, 
bearing  himself  not  ungracefully,  and  wearing  a 
riding-cloak  thrown  off  over  one  shoulder  above  an 
inconspicuous  doublet  of  dark  red  satin,  which,  to- 
gether with  his  silken  hose  and  velvet,  befeathered 
hat,  revealed  the  civilian.  The  man  nearest  to  him, 
many  years  his  senior,  was,  by  name,  Sir  Walter 
St.  Magil;  by  profession,  unmistakably  a  soldier. 
He,  too,  was  of  medium  height  and  aristocratic  car- 
riage, though  with  a  face  rendered  exceedingly  ill- 
appearing  by  a  cast  in  one  of  his  eyes  which  drew 
the  pupil  so  far  in  toward  the  nose  as  to  leave  but 
a  half  of  it  visible. 

As  the  needle-maker  concluded  his  tale  this  man 
smiled  knowingly,  and  the  smile  had  more  of  mean- 
ing in  it  than  of  mirth  or  pleasantness.  ''There  is 
but  one,'"  he  said,  that  all  might  hear  him — ''but 
one  with  a  brain  so  addled  as  to  be  capable  of  such 
folly.  And  that  man,  my  masters,  is  none  other  than 
John—" 

But  the  sentence  died  on  his  tongue,  half  spoken. 
For  Hugh  Rouse,  who  until  now  had  taken  no  part 
in  the  general  conversation,  came  forward  from  his 
comer  like  a  great  mastiff  from  its  kennel. 

"Nay,  Sir  Walter,''  he  objected,  "I  pray  you  make 
no  mention  of  the  man's  name;  it  will  do  no  good." 

For  an  instant  the  other's  brow  clouded,  but, 
controlling  himself  with  ease,  he  returned,  suavely: 
"Oh,  an  you,  as  the  man's  friend,  desire  it,  I  keep 
silence.  Ne'er-the-less,  fool,  I  call  him,  name  or  no 
name,  thus  to  interrupt  a  bear-baiting/' 

Little  satisfied  with  this  forbearance,  Hugh,  whose 
honest  face  had  been  for  the  moment  almost  threat- 

13 


John   Vytal 

ening,  reluctantly  resumed  his  seat  in  the  corner 
near  Marlowe.  '"Ah,  Hugh  Rouse/'  observed  the 
latter,  in  an  undertone,  ''your  name  neatly  fits  its 
owner.     But  you  did  wxll.'' 

In  the  mean  time.  Sir  Walter  St.  Magil,  whose  re- 
marks had  been  so  unceremoniously  interrupted  by 
Rouse,  was  talking  in  a  low  voice  wdth  his  young 
companion.  "The  man,''  he  said,  so  low  that  none 
but  the  immediate  listener  could  hear  him,  "  is  Vytal 
— ^John  Vytal.  We've  fought  together  in  the  Low 
Countries,  but — "  and  here  his  voice  sank  to  a  whis- 
per, while  he  glanced  furtively  about  him,  "  he's  not 
one  of  our  men." 

"Nay,  I  supposed  not,"  rejoined  the  young  man, 
in  a  careless  voice,  contrasting  strongly  with  his 
elder's  caution ;  "  therefore,  why  consult  this  fellow's 
pleasure?" 

"  Because  we  might  but  stir  up  mischief  by  oppos- 
ing the  brawling  giant.  Well  I  know  him,  for  he  is 
Vytal 's  follower.  As  I  live,  the  man  has  but  few 
friends,  yet  those  few  would  die  for  him." 

"Some  day  the  opportunity  may  be  theirs,"  ob- 
served the  other,  smiling  almost  boyishly. 

Yes,"  assented  St.  Magil,  in  a  grimmer  tone, 

but  now  we  must  have  patience.  For  the  moment 
let  us  guard  Vytal's  name  as  carefully  as  we  con- 
ceal your  own.  Which  reminds  me — I'd  almost  for- 
got— what  name  dost  go  by  now?" 

"  'Tis  '  Frazer ';  but  give  heed !  That  tale  of  bear- 
flogging  has  set  these  louts  at  odds." 

He  spoke  truth,  for  Peter  Sharp,  the  needle-maker, 
now  not  over-steady,  thanks  to  the  never-idle  tapster, 
was  indulging  in  an  argument  wdth  Watkins,  the 
breeches-maker,  concerning  his  favorite  entertain- 
ment. Entering  with  them  into  the  discussion,  though 
with  less  volubility  and  heat,  were  Samuel  Gorm,  a 

14 


(t 


A  Tale   of  the   Lost  Colony 

bear-ward,  and  Alleyn,  a  young  actor  of  plays  and 
interludes.  It  was  not,  however,  until  Peter  expressed 
the  astonishing  opinion  that  "  none  save  a  fool  would 
enter  a  play-house,  whereas,  every  man  worthy  of  the 
name  was  at  one  time  or  another  to  be  seen  in  the 
Paris  Gardens,''  that  Hugh  Rouse  rushed  into  the 
argument  in  his  customary  reckless  manner. 

"  Hast  been,''  he  asked,  vehemently,  "  to  the  '  Cur- 
ten  '  and  seen  Master  Alleyn,  here,  go  through  his  act- 
ing? 'Sdein!  The  smell  of  powder,  the  sight  of 
a  musketoon,  the  glisten  of  pikes — and  what  not  ? — 
oh,  they  befool  me  finely!"  The  soldier  turned  to 
Marlowe,  his  broad  face  red  with  enthusiasm  to  the 
roots  of  his  flaxen  hair.  ''It  befools  me  finely,"  he 
repeated.  ''I  remember  real  rage  and  blows.  Hand 
goes  to  hilt  instinctively.  Now,  in  this  new  inven- 
tion writ  by  j^ou.  Master  Marlowe,  there  is  good 
cause  for  excitation."  He  paused,  and,  draining 
his  cup,  glanced  at  the  actor.  "  V  faith,  Alleyn,  when 
you  trod  on  Bajazeth's  neck  to  mount  his  throne, 
I  stood  there,  too.  When  you  caged  the  caitiff,  I 
baited  him  betwixt  the  bars.  When  ye  fought  with 
him,  I  cried, '  Couragio !  Bravo !  Tamburlaine !  Well 
thrust!'  and  when  you  conquered, '  Thank  God!'  says 
I, '  'twas  most  brave  work.  There's  no  blade  in  Spain 
or  England  can  send  a  knave  so  quick  to  hell.'  And 
that  was  but  a  play  called  'Tamburlaine,'  Master 
Alleyn,  all  conceived  by  Marlowe  and  thee — a  pen 
and  a  sword  together." 

Hearing  Rouse  thus  expatiate  on  the  wonders  of  the 
drama,  the  youthful  civilian,  then  known  as  Frazer, 
seemed  to  catch  the  somewhat  turbulent  manner  of 
the  soldier,  and  retorted  with  a  sneer  of  mingled  pat- 
ronage and  amusement :  "  Ay,  my  good  Pike-trailer, 
you  may  be  thus  easily  gulled,  being  of  so  hot  a  nat- 
ure, but  we^  the  less  fiery,  see  through  the  play-actor's 

15 


John   Vytal 

pretensions/'  To  this  Rouse  made  no  response, 
having,  in  truth,  an  unready  wit,  and  a  tongue  that, 
as  he  occasionally  realized,  was  quick  enough  to  em- 
broil him  in  controversy,  but  slow  to  rescue  him  there- 
from with  the  preservation  of  an  honorable  peace. 
Marlowe,  on  the  other  hand,  was  naturally  far  less 
clumsy  in  wordy  wars,  and  stood  willing  to  espouse 
his  new  friend's  cause  in  an  argument  which  he,  as 
plajrvvright,  was  so  well  fitted  to  maintain. 

''How  now,''  said  he  to  Frazer,  ''would  not  a  sol- 
dier be  the  first  to  cry  out  against  mere  mimicry  of 
that  he  holds  most  noble?" 

"Indeed,  Master  Poet,"  returned  Frazer,  with  an 
expression  less  haughty,  but  none  the  less  amused, 
as  he  turned  to  his  new  opponent,  "  I  know  not,  being 
unfamiliar  with  men-at-arms;  yet  I  still  maintain 
that  the  contest  being  real,  as  in  a  bear-fight,  the  ex- 
citement to  the  majority  is  greater.  The  play  is  but 
an  imitation,  and  many  actors,  with  all  deference  to 
you.  Master  Alleyn,  no  more  than  strutting  mimics. 
I've  seen  stage  kings,  upon  their  exits  from  the  inn- 
yards  of  their  mighty  conquests,  go  home  as  sham- 
bling hovellers.  I've  seen  mock  heroes,  who  erst- 
while have  trailed  their  pikes  and  rung  their  rowels 
to  the  tune  of  Spanish  oaths,  go  white  as  death  at 
sight  of  poniard  drawn  in  earnest.  But  bear-baiting 
is  real.  The  bear's  a  bear,  the  dog  a  dog.  They 
know  none  other  role  than  this — to  fight  to  kill,  and 
not  for  plaudits.  Roar,  growl,  slobber,  grasp  of 
shaggy  arms,  clinch  of  naked  teeth — by  all  the  gods, 
these  things  are  real !  Here,  Jack  Tapster,  another 
flagon  to  the  bear ! " 

For  a  moment  there  was  silence  following  the  out- 
burst of  enthusiasm.  This  young  Frazer  had  not  a 
little  dash  of  the  reckless,  ro3^stering  sort,  causing 
the  audience  to  forget  his  sinister  companion,  look- 

i6 


A  Tale   of  the    Lost  Colony 

ing  on  askance  with  that  eye  which  lay  half  behind 
his  nose  as  though  in  an  effort  to  hide  itself  from  those 
who  might  be  capable  of  reading  its  real  expression. 
The  tap-room's  occupants  were  strongly  influenced 
by  what  they  deemed  an  eloquent  description  of  their 
favorite  sport.  But  Marlowe  was  one  of  the  few  who 
saw  deeper. 

"Even  so/'  said  he,  with  a  sudden  outburst  of 
young  conceit.  "There's  more  than  battle  in  my 
'  Tamburlaine. '  There's  love,  parentage,  death  in  the 
play.  Each  day  I  feel  most  miserable  when  Zenoc- 
rate  expires.  A  bear  dies — that  is  but  the  death  of 
a  bear.  Zenocrate's  death  is  a  queen's  demise — a 
scene — a  picture — call  it  what  you  will — 'tis  art,  and 
in  bear-baiting,  I  tell  you,  there  is  no  art." 

"Ay,  Marlowe,"  observed  Rouse,  "excellent  well 
said.     I  cannot  find  words  as  thou  canst." 

''  Artl"  exclaimed  Frazer,  "art!  Is  that  a  paint- 
brush in  thy  dainty  scabbard.  Sir  Poet?"  And 
again  he  laughed  with  a  curiously  boyish  merri- 
ment. 

"Ay,"  returned  Marlowe,  "and  its  crimson  color 
grows  dim.  The  paint-brush  would  fain  find  a  pal- 
ette to  mix  on  and  daub  afresh.  Master  Princox." 

"A  palate r'  ejaculated  Frazer,  laughing  with 
genuine  mirth ;  "  that  sheath  must  hold  an  axe  then. 
It's  by  the  palate  wine  goes  to  the  stomach,  and  an 
axe,  so  I've  heard,  to  the  block." 

"  Ha,  but  thy  wit,"  rejoined  Marlowe,  " '  wol  out,' 
as  Geoffrey  Chaucer  said.  Nay,  though,  perhaps 
it  is  because  you  watch  fearfully  the  doings  near 
block  and  gallows  that  you  know  so  well  their 
manners.  Wit — foh!  It  is  easy  to  play  the  game 
of  words  as  Tarlton  does.  I  call  it  but  juggling 
phrases,  and  robbing  language  of  its  meaning,  as 
a  vagabond  juggles  stolen  coin." 
B  17 


John  Vytal 

"Ay,  juggles  phrases/'  echoed  Rouse,  with  ad- 
miration. 

"  But  well  see  a  nobler  conjury/'  pursued  Marlowe, 
upon  whose  hot  blood  the  insolent  bearing  of  Frazer 
was  having  its  effect.  "The  artist's  brush  shall 
paint  the  juggler's  tongue  a  deeper  red — the — "  The 
poet's  threat,  however,  uttered  while  he  rose  and  drew 
his  sword,  was  interrupted  by  Simon  Groat,  the  host, 
who  came  forward  with  hands  uplifted  in  expostu- 
lation. 

''Gogsnouns!"  he  exclaimed.  "Not  so,  my  wor- 
shipful guests.  Take  ye  the  '  Tabard  '  for  a  tilt-yard  ? 
Nay,  nay — I  pray  you — here,  tapster,  a  quietus  for 
all — open  the  ale-tap  wide.  Free  flagons,  gentles, 
an  it  please  you  to  wait  and  drain  them.  You'll 
find  more  space  without — down  by  the  bridge-house 
there  is  room  for — " 

And  now  Sir  Walter  St.  Magil,  the  apparent  ad- 
viser of  young  Frazer,  lent  his  aid  to  Simon  Groat 
in  calming  the  turbulent  disputants.  "Ay,  Master 
Frazer,"  said  he,  "respect  thine  host — the  quarrel's 
idle,  gentlemen,  if  you'll  permit  me." 

"But  the  swords,"  declared  Marlowe,  "shall  not 
be." 

"Nay,"  cried  Frazer,  in  whose  veins  the  Canary 
wine  ran  riotous.  "  Your  artist's  brush  would  fain 
paint — " 

"Fool I"  roared  Rouse,  "you'll  pay  high  for  the 
picture,"  and  so  saying  the  big  fellow  pushed  aside 
tables  and  chairs,  while  Marlowe  stood  on  guard  with 
rapier  drawn.  But  at  this  instant,  in  a  window  be- 
hind Frazer,  yet  plainly  visible  to  Rouse  and  Mar- 
lowe, the  face  of  a  man  appeared. 

"Fools  all!"  he  said,  in  a  voice  that  clipped  words 
and  shot  them  from  him  like  bullets.  "  Sots !  Ye're 
the  bears !     Why  this  babble  of  plays,  when  you  only 

i8 


A  Tale   of  the   Lost   Colony 

enact  a  bear-baiting  yourselves,  and  that  poorly? 
Twere  nobler  to  be  a  bear  or  bull-dog  than  an  ass/' 
Whereat,  as  suddenly  as  it  had  come,  the  face  of  the 
speaker  disappeared  from  the  tai>room  window. 

Marlowe  and  Rouse  turned  one  to  another  in  the 
silence  of  astonishment.  And  the  name  on  the  lips 
of  lx>th  men,  although  they  gave  it  not  even  a  whis- 
pered utterance,  was  "  Vytal." 


CHAPTER  II 

"Our  swords  shall  play  the  orator  for  us." 

— Marlowe,  in  Tamburlaine. 

It  would  be  difficult  adequatel3^  to  describe  the 
expressions  of  amazement,  in  face  and  gesture,  of 
those  who  had  had  this  fearless  effrontery  thrown  at 
them.  Its  effect  on  Marlowe  and  Rouse  was  instan- 
taneous. Both  went  back  immediately  to  the  table 
they  had  quitted,  refraining  from  any  further  show 
of  fight.  The  youth  called  Frazer  was  the  first  to 
speak. 

Who's  the  insolent  fellow?'' 

If  I  should  fetch  him/'  observed  St.  Magil,  as 
no  answer  was  forthcoming,  ''  you  would  see  a  most 
extraordinary  man."  He  went  to  the  window.  "Nay, 
he's  gone.  'Tis  always  thus — up  and  down  from 
hell's  mouth  like  the  devil  in  the  play.  But  I  can 
describe  that  face  as  though  even  now  it  was  here 
before  me,  and,  mark  you,  I  saw  it  not  when  its 
mouth  defied  us  at  the  window.  He  is  well  called 
the  Wolf." 

"'Nay,"  interposed  the  poet,  "save  because  many 
fear  him.  I  drink  to  the  man!"  and  Marlowe  turned 
to  Rouse. 

"To  the  man  I  follow!"  said  the  good  Hugh,  sim- 
ply; and  they  drank.  But  the  cups  of  Frazer  and 
St.  Magil  for  once  stood  untouched  upon  the  table. 

Before  the  conversation  had  gone  further  the  tap- 
room door  opened,  admitting  a  short,  stout  woman  of 

20 


John  Vytal:   A  Tale  of  the  Lost  Colony 

middle  age  and  rubicund  visage.  Glancing  quickly 
about  from  one  to  another,  her  eyes  at  length  rested 
on  Thomas  Watkins,  who,  having  had  his  usually 
promment  place  in  the  tavern  gossip  usurped  by 
those  of  higher  degree,  and  holding  no  small  meas- 
ure of  ale  within  him,  sat  fast  asleep  and  snoring. 
The  sight  of  the  breeches-maker  in  this  position  so 
enraged  the  new-comer  that  she  awoke  him  by  the 
startling  method  of  boxing  his  ears  soundly,  and 
commanding  him  to  follow  her  without  delay.  Vith 
a  pained  air,  yet  much  alacrity,  the  poor  leather- 
seller  obeyed  his  orders.  It  was,  indeed,  his  life-long 
obedience  to  his  wife's  decrees  that  won  him  the 
pity  of  his  fellow-men. 

"There's  a  customer  at  the  shop,  Tom  Sot,''  de- 
clared the  shrew,  leading  her  husband  to  the  bridge, 
"  who  wants  you.  And  lucky  we  are  if  he  be  honest^ 
for  I  must  needs  leave  him  there  to  guard  it  while 
I  come  here  and  get  you.  But  Sloth's  your  name 
and  always  will  be.  Had  ever  woman  such  a  lazy 
clod  to  depend  on?" 

Thus  she  railed  at  the  now  miserable  Watkins 
until  they  came  to  their  shop  at  the  sign  of  ''  The 
Roebuck,"  on  London  Bridge.  Finding  it  empty 
the  breeches  -  maker,  with  much  alarm,  looked  up 
and  down  the  street  through  the  gathering  darkness. 
The  narrow  way  on  the  bridge  was  almost  deserted 
save  for  a  watchman  slowly  approaching  from  the 
London  end  with  horn-sided  lanthorn,  and  halberd 
m  hand,  who  cried  out  monotonously  his  song  of 
the  familiar  burden : 

"Lanthorn  and  a  whole  candle-light! 
Hang  out  your  lights !     Hear!" 

And  just  across  the  bridge  stood  another  man  near 
the  parapet,  his  tall  frame  sharply  defined  against 

21 


John   Vytal 

the  sky.  It  was  to  him  that  Watkins  went  in  the 
hope  of  obtaining  information  concerning  his  de- 
parted customer. 

''  Can  you  tell  me,  sir,  did  any  man  just  leave  my 
shop  at  the  sign  of  '  The  Roebuck '  there?'' 

"  A  man  did/'  replied  the  stranger.     ''I  am  he." 

''And  you  were  left  to  guard  it,  sir,  in  Gammer 
Watkins's  absence,"  complained  the  breeches-maker. 

''  I  have  guarded  it.  'Tw^as  but  five  minutes  ago 
that  I  came  out,  and  I've  kept  a  close  eye  upon  your 
doorway  through  every  one  of  those  five  minutes.  I 
tell  you,  Thomas,  the  time  that  has  passed  since  I 
went  out  of  your  shop  with  a  new  pair  of  breeches 
is  much  longer." 

The  leather-seller  looked  up  keenly  into  the  speak- 
er's face.  ''Salt  and  bread!"  he  exclaimed;  "'tis 
Master  Vytal!" 

"  Yes,  Tom,  or  Captain  Vytal,  as  you  will,  being 
now  a  fighting  man  from  the  Low  Countries." 

"Oh,  sir,  your  presence  brings  me  pleasure  and 
consolation,  I  may  say.  How  the  times  have  changed 
in  these  few  years — within,  sir,  and  without !  Have 
you  heard  about  Queen  Mary,  how  we  have  been 
delivered  from  her  plots  these  two  months  past  in  a 
very,  I  may  say,  forcible  way?     Have  you  heard — ?" 

"Ay,  Tom,  all  that,  and  more,  too,  on  the  road 
from  the  coast.  But  one  thing  I  have  not  heard — 
how  long  will  it  take  you  to  make  me  a  pair  of 
breeches?" 

"But  a  short  time,  Captain  Vytal.  I  was  ever 
handy  and  quick  with  work  for  you." 

"And  so,  Tom,  I  have  come  back  to  you." 

"Ay,  sir,  but,  alack! — the  old  days  cannot  come 
back.  There  are  man3^,  many  changes  since  the 
good  old  times.  The  world,  it  seems  to  me,  grows 
petty." 

22 


A  Tale   of  the    Lost  Colony 

"What!  call  you  it  petty  when  a  queen  comes  to 
the  block?" 

"  Nay,  but  look  you.  Captain  Vytal/'  He  pointed  to 
the  top  of  the  Southwark  Gate.  ''See  those  heads 
spiked  above  us.  They  be  thirty  in  number,  yet  all 
are  but  the  pates  of  seminary  priests  who  have  en- 
tered England  against  the  statute.  Now  this  old 
bridge  has  had  much  nobler  heads  upon  it,  crowning 
the  traitor's  gate.  The  head  of  Sir  William  Wallace 
looked  down  on  the  river  long  ago,  and  later  the 
Earl  of  Northumberland's.  Some  I  have  seen — Sir 
Thomas  More's,  the  Bishop  of  Rochester's — " 

''By  Heaven!"  broke  in  Vytal,  "you  are  in  no 
pleasant  mood,  Tom,  on  seeing  me." 

"  'Tis  not  you,  captain.  'Tis  " — his  voice  sank 
lower — "she,"  and  he  pointed  toward  his  shop. 
"Have  you  a  wife  yourself?" 

Nay,  Tom,  nor  never  shall  have." 
'Tis  well.  The  thousand  new  statutes  that  are 
imposed  upon  us  by  her  Majesty,  the  queen  —  God 
preserve  her! — since  you  left,  are  not  one  whit  so 
hard  to  bear  as  them  her  majesty  —  God  preserve 
me! — Gammer  Watkins,  imposes." 

"There  are  two  sides  to  every  difference,  Tom. 
Now,  a  little  less  at  the  '  Tabard ' — but  tell  me,  do 
the  citizens  grow  uneasy  beneath  these  numerous 
decrees?" 

"Nay;  many  are  but  slight  annoyances  seldom 
put  in  force.  The  wearing  of  a  rapier  longer  than 
three  feet  is  forbidden  by  laiv;  the  wearing  of  a  wom- 
an's ruff  too  large  is  prohibited  by  law.  And  our 
caps  should  be  of  cheaper  stuff  than  velvet  by  law, 
and  we  must  not  blow  upon  horns  or  whistles  in  the 
streets  by  law — 'uds  precious,  there  is  no  end  to  it. 
;jBut  there  is  no  statute  against  the  flogging  of  blind- 
ed bears,  captain — I  had  almost  forgot  this  after- 

23 


it 

ft  }r 


■^tgf 


John  Vytal 

noon's  exploit  of  thine.  I  saw  it  not,  for  when  they 
had  brought  King  Lud  to  such  a  pass  I  could  not  sit 
there,  but  went  to  the  bear-house  in  the  garden  to 
show  a  country  lad  Old  Sarcason  at  closer  quarters. 
Yet  I  might  have  known  it  was  you  when  Peter 
Sharp  described  the  adventure.'' 

Vytal  laughed.  'Tm  sorry  you  so  soon  forgot. 
I  meant  the  thing  to  be  a  lasting  lesson.  But  come, 
I  want  a  pair  of  breeches.  I  go  again  abroad,  but 
westward  now,  to  the  new  country.'' 

They  walked  across  to  the  shop.  ''I  fear,"  said 
Watkins,  his  voice  sinking  to  a  whisper, ''  you  should 
not  tarry  long.  Those  bear-wards  will  not  readily 
forgive  you." 

""  Now,  Thomas,  what  has  that  to  do  with  breeches  ?" 

''Nothing,  indeed,"  returned  the  leather  -  seller, 
with  a  dry,  crisp  laugh.  "  Oh,  but  you  never  change. 
Master  Vytal." 

They  were  but  just  within  the  shop  when  the  needle- 
maker  came  hurrying  to  the  bridge  excitedly,  with 
young  Frazer,  Marlowe,  Alleyn  the  actor,  Gorm, 
and  a  dozen  others  at  his  heels,  St.  Magil  slowly 
following  in  the  rear. 

"They  seek  the  jackanapes  who  dared  to  curse 
them  from  the  window,"  said  Peter  Sharp.  "  'Tis 
he,  they  say,  that  spoiled  the  bear-fight.  His  man. 
Rouse,  hath  started  out  in  search,  and  they,  being  no 
more  threatened  by  the  giant,  are  bent  on  scouring 
the  town.  Oh,  'twill  be  brave  sport  to  see  the  Wolf 
well  harried."  The  needle-maker  looked  keenly  at 
Watkins,  behind  whom  Vytal,  unknowingly,  stood 
concealed  by  the  shadows  of  the  shop. 

Watkins  forced  a  laugh.  ''Ay,  brave  sport,"  said 
he;  "but  'tis  not  to  the  town  he's  gone;  he  hath 
started  out  toward  Lambeth." 

"Toward  Lambeth  !"  cried  young  Frazer.,  who  by 

24 


A  Tale   of  the    Lost   Colony 

now  stood  face  to  face  with  Watkins.  "  Ho,  for  Lam- 
beth, then;  but  first  let  us  stop  and  invite  the  bear- 
wards  thither.  'Tis  in  part  their  right  to  end  the 
quarrel/' 

Here,  perhaps,  the  danger  would  have  been  averted 
had  not  a  new  quarrel  arisen  of  far  more  serious  con- 
sequence, and,  indeed,  so  fraught  with  import  that, 
although  but  incidental,  we  recognize  it  as  one  of 
those  contentions  in  which  the  very  Fates  themselves, 
seeming  to  join,  brawl  like  shrews  until  their  thread 
is  snarled  and  the  whole  fabric  of  a  human  life  be- 
comes a  hopeless  tangle. 

As  Watkins  closed  the  door  of  his  shop,  Sir  Walter 
St.  Magil  turned  back  toward  the  '  Tabard '  in  ugly 
mood.  The  wine,  which  at  first  had  exhilarated  him, 
being  now  soured  by  his  disapproval  of  Frazer's 
rashness,  only  added  to  his  ill-humor.  Young  Fra- 
zer,  on  the  other  hand,  who  walked  beside  him,  had 
grown  merrier  and  even  less  cautious  than  before. 
Now  that  the  Canary  wine  had  fired  his  brain, 
other  considerations  were  cast  aside,  all  policy  for- 
gotten. The  air  of  refinement  and  courtliness  which, 
being  so  well  assumed,  had  previously  seemed  genu- 
ine, left  him  suddenly.  He  became  but  an  ill-bred 
roysterer,  singing,  as  he  started  back,  various  catches 
of  ribald  songs,  while  Gorm,  the  bear- ward,  arm-in- 
arm with  Peter  Sharp,  followed  not  over-steadily,  and 
several  other  tipplers,  who,  from  their  windows  in 
the  bridge  houses,  had  seen  the  gathering  before 
Watkins 's  leather-shop,  hurried  out  to  bring  up  the 
rear  with  a  chorus  of  vulgar  jesting. 

At  the  Southwark  Gate  Peter  Sharp,  the  needle- 
maker,  who  by  now  was  leading  the  motley  throng 
with  an  apish  dance,  having  caught  the  spirit  of  hi- 
larity, came  to  a  stand-still  and  turned  to  the  bear- 
wardj  who  was  shambling  after  him  as  steadily  as  his 

25 


John   Vytal 

bandy  legs  and  tipsy  condition  would  allow.  "'  'S  bod- 
ikin!''  he  exclaimed.  ''Now  tell  me^  jovial  Bruin- 
baiter,  didst  ever  see  so  remarkable  a  sight?"  He 
pointed  ahead  of  him  to  a  young  girl  approaching 
the  gateway  on  the  High  Street,  escorted  by  a  man 
who  was  evidently  her  servant.  ''Here's  a  wench 
with  a  ruff,  indeed!'' 

The  girl  of  whom  he  spoke  was  now  within  the 
scope  of  the  light  cast  by  a  number  of  lanthorns  the 
revellers  were  carrying.  Seeing  them,  and  hearing 
the  needle-maker's  rude  observation,  she  hesitated 
timidly ;  then,  bidding  her  servant  follow  her,  turned 
toward  a  side  street,  with  the  evident  intention  of 
escaping  insult  by  taking  barge  across  the  Thames 
from  the  nearest  water-gate. 

"A  ruff  that  wears  a  wench,  I  should  say,"  cor- 
rected Frazer. 

"Yes,  and  by  donning  such  extreme  attire,"  de- 
clared the  needle-maker,  assuming  an  air  of  official 
importance,  "she  breaks  the  queen's  decree.  It  is 
but  the  duty  of  all  good  citizens  like  myself  to  stop 
these  outlandish  practices.  Do  you  detain  her,  Gorm, 
while  I  fetch  shears  and  cut  the  thing  as  the  law 
demands."  Whereupon  the  mischievous  Peter  ran 
back  quickly,  and  Gorm,  with  a  coarse  oath,  stag- 
gered forward  to  intercept  the  girl. 

"  Yes,  a  ruff  that  wears  a  wench,"  repeated  Frazer, 
evidently  pleased  with  his  own  facetiousness. 

"Let  be,"  commanded  St.  Magil,  and  would  have 
passed  on  but  for  his  youthful  comrade,  who,  push- 
ing the  bear-ward  aside,  laid  hold  on  the  girl's  arm, 
and,  taking  a  lanthorn  from  one  of  the  by-stand- 
ers,  held  it  before  her  face.  At  this  her  servant 
drew  his  sword  and  rushed  upon  Frazer  savagely. 
But  a  steady  rapier  -  point,  unseen  in  the  dark, 
met  him  full  in  the  breast,  so  that  he  fell  forward 

26 


A  Tale   of  the    Lost    Colony 

groaning,  and  the  weapon  was  with  difficulty  with- 
drawn. 

"Nay,  now.  Sir  Walter/'  said  Frazer,  laughing  as 
though  nothing  had  happened,  ''this  is  no  wench 
and  ruff,  but  rather  a  flower,  I  should  say,  whose 
outer  petals,  drooping,  form  a  collarette  about  its  bud- 
ding centre.  It  is,  indeed,  well  to  cut  the  petals.  I 
shall  keep  them  as  a  token/'  and,  leaning  forward, 
he  would  have  kissed  the  girl  full  upon  the  lips,  but 
she  stepped  back  quickly,  with  her  face  behind  her 
ujDraised  arm,  and  tried  to  elude  his  grasp.  ''Is 
there  not  one  gentleman?''  she  cried ;  and  then,  in  an- 
swer, a  voice  above  all  the  laughter  said,  sharply, 
"Yes,  one."  It  was  Vytal.  A  few  strides  had 
brought  him  from  the  breeches-maker's  shop  to  the 
gateway,  only  the  lodge  of  the  bridge  porter  stand- 
ing between  "  The  Roebuck  "  and  Long  Southwark. 

The  girl  now  stood  immediately  beneath  the  great 
stone  arch  of  the  gate,  her  eyes  flashing  in  the  lan- 
thorn-light.  For  one  instant  Vytal  looked  at  her, 
and  the  light  fell  on  his  face,  too.  "My  God!"  he 
whispered;  "it  is  you,  come  to  me  at  last!"  But 
whatever  expression  his  face  wore  then,  it  meant 
only  one  thing  to  the  crowd  who  watched  it,  par- 
ticularly to  the  bear-ward,  who  had  been  suddenly 
sobered  by  the  adventure,  and  to  the  needle-maker, 
who  had  returned,  long  shears  in  hand. 

"  'Tis  the  very  knave  we  seek!"  exclaimed  the  two, 
in  a  voice  of  astonishment.  "Yes,"  added  Gorm, 
"and  now  for  the  reckoning."  So  saying,  he  ran 
heavily  away  toward  the  river  and  along  its  bank 
to  the  Paris  Garden. 

"Ay,  'fore  Gad!"  ejaculated  Frazer;  "but  there 
are  other  debts  to  pay." 

" One  moment,"  said  the  soldier;  whereupon,  lead- 
ing the  girl  by  the  hand,  he  took  her  back  to  Wat- 

27 


John  Vytal 

kins's  leather-shop,  and  without  another  word  ush- 
ered her  across  the  threshold.  Standing  then  before 
the  doorway  by  which  she  had  entered,  Vytal  drew 
his  rapier,  while  Frazer,  throwing  his  riding-cloak  to 
St.  Magil,  who  saw  with  annoyance  that  a  grave 
quarrel  was  now  inevitable,  came  forward,  with  ease 
and  grace  regained,  for  the  fracas  had  sobered  him, 
too,  and  sober,  he  appeared,  as  we  have  said,  a  gen- 
tleman. His  peculiarly  boyish  and  almost  innocent 
face,  with  its  beardless  chin  and  compressed  lips, 
showed  valor  and  determination,  to  which  the  ever- 
amused,  patronizing  look  of  his  eyes  added  a  cer- 
tain bantering  expression. 

The  crowd,  whose  numbers  were  steadily  increas- 
ing, stood  concentrated  to  one  side  near  the  South- 
wark  Gate,  giving  the  combatants  as  wide  a  berth  as 
the  bridge  afforded  between  its  double  file  of  build- 
ings. St.  Magil  held  the  on-lookers  back,  his  own 
rapier  drawn  in  case  of  interference.  But  at  pres- 
ent there  seemed  to  be  small  chance  of  this,  for  Hugh 
Rouse  was  beyond  ear -shot,  and  Watkins,  who 
alone  in  the  crowd  espoused  the  captain's  cause, 
could  do  naught  but  argue  his  case  in  the  deaf  ears 
of  the  by-standers.  The  leather-seller's  sallow  face 
grew  paler,  for  although  he  had  no  doubts  as  to  the 
ability  of  VytaVs  sword-arm,  he  had  seen  the  hasty 
departure  of  Gorm,  and  knew  its  meaning.  Unfort- 
unately Alleyn,  who  might  have  been  of  assistance 
in  case  of  need,  had  left  at  the  first  signs  of  bad  blood, 
being  a  peaceable  man  by  nature.  We  should  men- 
tion, however,  in  addition  to  Watkins,  as  exceptions 
to  the  general  ill-feeling,  two  men  who  watched  the 
scene  with  a  partial  interest.  These  were  Merfin,  the 
book-seller,  and  Marlowe,  who  stood  across  the  street 
under  the  sign  of  "The  Three  Bibles."  The  young 
poet  was  looking  at  Vytal  with  eyes  aflame,  for  sud- 

28 


A  Tale   of  the    Lost    Colony 

denlj^  the  great  martial  heroism  of  his  dramas  had 
become  corporate  and  vivid  in  this  man.  It  did  not 
occur  to  him  to  interfere,  as,  breathless,  he  watched 
the  fight.  The  conclusion  of  the  contest  was  fore- 
gone in  his  mind,  and  only  the  dramatic  element 
intensely  absorbing. 

"Now,  couragio!  my  brave  world-reformer!''  cried 
Frazer.  "I  will  show  you  that  civilians  are  not  all 
dullards  at  the  art  of  fence.  But  before  we  cross  Fd 
have  you  remember  that  I  could  send  you  before  a 
justice  an  I  would.  There's  a  statute  against  ruffs 
that  are  too  big,  and,  in  troth,  still  another  against 
rapiers  over-long.  Now  yours.  Master  Vytal,  is  one 
of  these." 

At  this  the  excited  Peter  Sharp,  who  must  needs 
have  his  say  when  the  occasion  offered,  cried  out  from 
his  position  in  the  front  rank  of  the  audience :  ''  Nay, 
'tis  a  mere  bodkin,  and  I  should  know,  being  needle- 
maker;  but  you  will  prove  it,  I  doubt  not." 
l^"Dolt!"  rejoined  Frazer,  turning  to  Peter  and  the 
rest,  "I  meant  that  not  so  literally.  Mark  you, 
all  rapiers  are  too  long,  an  they  play  against  the 
queen's  decrees,  be  they  bodkins  or  the  length  of 
quarter -staffs."  And,  looking  at  St.  Magil,  he 
smiled. 

"Now,  meddler,"  resumed  Frazer,  turning  back  to 
Vytal,  who  maintained  his  guard  in  silence,  "Fll 
teach  3^ou  the  stoccata,  as  'tis  done  before  the  queen. 
The  stoccata — 'tis  thus!"  Whereat  the  youth,  with 
a  quick  wrist,  thrust  skilfully.  But  his  blade  was 
parried  with  apparent  ease.  "  'Slid!"  he  exclaimed, 
betraying  himself  yet  more  the  braggart,  as  he  real- 
ized the  dexterity  of  Vytal,  nevertheless  a  brave 
braggart,  which  is  an  uncommon  combination. 
"Body  o'  Caesar!  but  you  know  the  special  rules! 
Now  this^  for  instance,  the  imbroccata/'  and  he  thrust 

29 


John  Vytal 

again  more  viciously  in  tierce.  For  several  minutes 
the  rapiers  crossed  and  recrossed,  quick,  slender 
gleams  dancing  in  the  lanthorn-light.  "  And  this,  the, 
punto,"  said  Frazer,  still  persisting  in  his  role  of  mas- 
ter, while  Vytal,  more  than  ten  years  his  senior,  spoke 
no  word,  but  only  fenced  and  fenced,  controlling  the 
other's  point  and  awaiting  an  opening.  ''And  the 
reverso — there — there — there  again,  and  the  passa- 
da — thus — 'Slud!  the  bodkin  stitches  quickly — the 
tool's  full  of  tricks — God!  Fm  undone — " 

But  no,  for  at  this  instant  the  rapier  of  St.  Magil 
came  darting  forward  like  a  snake  to  parry  the  thrust 
from  his  friend's  breast,  and  now  it  was  two,  side  by 
side,  against  the  one  who  held  the  doorway.  The 
crowd  stood  breathless,  spellbound.  Never  had  they 
seen  such  play  of  weapons. 

Vytal  drew  a  dagger  with  his  left  hand ;  his  antag- 
onists instantly  responded.  But  he  was  willing  to 
risk  that,  considering  the  increase  of  his  own  advan- 
tage greater  than  the  addition  to  theirs.  And  now 
the  rapiers  played,  with  an  under  meaning,  as  it  were, 
in  the  vicious  poniards.  Here  was  a  contest  between 
men  who  knew  the  art,  and  lived  by  it,  and  could  live 
by  naught  else  now  but  a  successful  practice  of  their 
knowledge.  Up  and  down,  to  and  fro,  the  rapiers 
made  their  way,  now  fast,  now  slower,  like  silver 
moon -rays  on  the  river  below,  while  hither  and 
thither,  prying  about  for  an  open  spot,  the  fiat  pon- 
iards ran  with  far  more  venom  though  less  grace. 

And  still  Vytal  held  his  ground,  even  gaining  at 
the  last,  for  St.  Magil  breathed  heavily,  and  the  youth 
beside  him  had  gone  white  as  death. 

But  it  was  then  that  several  new-comers,  led  by 
Gorm,  the  bear-ward,  entered  the  bridge  street  by 
the  Southwark  Gate.  Having  broadswords  ready 
drawn  and  curses  on   their  lips  for  Vytal,  their  in- 

30 


A  Tale   of  the  Lost  Colony 

tention  was  evident.  One  the  people  recognized  as 
him  who  had  been  flogged  instead  of  the  bhnded  bear 
he  had  been  flogging.  Their  onrush  against  the 
soldier,  however,  was  delayed  for  an  instant  by  the 
sight  of  the  furious  fight  before  them.  On  seeing 
them,  Vytal's  face  grew  graver.  ''Curs!''  he  mut- 
tered, and  then,  in  a  voice  just  loud  enough  to  rise 
above  the  clash  of  steel,  "  Watkins,  seek  Rouse! — the 
'Tabard!''' 

At  this,  the  breeches  -  maker,  upbraiding  himself 
for  his  demented  negligence,  strove  to  break  through 
the  throng,  but  could  not.  In  despair,  he  groaned 
aloud.  Just  then,  however,  Vytal  found  Frazer's 
hilt  with  his  rapier  -  point,  and,  maintaining  his 
guard  for  the  instant  with  dagger  alone,  threw  the 
weapon  high  in  air,  and  across  the  street,  where  it 
fell,  ringing,  at  the  feet  of  Christopher  Marlowe. 
And  Vytal's  voice  rose  above  the  clamor  of  in- 
vective in  a  short,  sharp  cry:  "Hugh!  Roger!  To 
me!"  For  the  bear- wards  from  the  garden  were  now 
opposing  his  rapier  with  their  heavy  blades.  Yet  he 
still  held  the  door,  rendering  entrance  to  the  breeches- 
maker's  shop  and  to  the  girl  within  it  as  difficult  as 
ever.  He  heard  a  voice  from  across  the  threshold 
imploring  him  to  save  himself,  if  he  could,  by  leaving 
the  shop-door — and  that  low  voice,  coming  to  him 
from  behind  the  barrier,  then  again  from  an  upper 
window,  where  the  girl  watched  with  wonder  his 
gallant  defence  of  her,  only  nerved  his  arm  to  the 
more  strenuous  endeavor. 

We  have  said  that  the  rapier  of  which  Vytal  had 
deprived  Frazer  fell  at  the  feet  of  Marlowe.  It  came 
like  an  invitation  to  him — almost  a  command.  Sim- 
ilarly inspiration  had  come  more  than  once  to  fire  his 
genius  and  kindle  the  flame  that  irradiated  his  poetry, 
but  here  for  the  first  time  inspiration  shone  to  show 

31 


John  Vytal 

him  another  outlet  for  his  ardor;  the  lustre  of  mere 
portrayal  paled  before  the  forked  lightning  of  those 
swords  at  work,  while  his  thoughts,  at  first  suggest- 
ing some  future  depiction  of  the  scene,  gave  way  to 
hot  impulse.  His  blood  ran  riotously  in  his  veins, 
and  as  he  leaped  forward  to  Vytal's  side  with  Frazer's 
rapier  ready,  all  his  art  was  the  art  of  fence,  all  his 
spirit  the  spirit  of  action. 

But  his  opportune  aid,  though  immediately  ap- 
preciable in  holding  back  the  soldier's  assailants, 
was  soon  diverted  by  the  latter  to  another  course. 

"'Quick!''  said  Vytal,  in  a  low  voice.  ''Go  you 
in  by  the  door  beliind  us.  Up — "  his  words  came 
disjointedly,  being  broken  b}^  some  extra -hazard- 
ous thrust  or  parry  demanding  unusual  attention — 
"  up,  there — through  the  shop — ah,  they  almost  had 
you — control  his  point  another  minute — take  her  with 
you  through  the  porter's  lodge — it  can  be  done — 
quick! — and  then  whither  she  will — to  some  place — 
of  safety — but  remember  the  place — meet  me  at  the 
'Tabard' later." 

"Meet  you!"  ejaculated  Marlowe,  still  with  eyes 
on  every  movement  of  the  adversaries.  "No  man 
could  hold  out  singly — against — this  army.  I  came 
to  save  your  life — not  for  some  intrigue." 

"An  you  call  it  that,"  returned  Vytal,  who  was 
now  pressed  closer  than  ever  by  St.  Magil,  Frazer, 
and  the  cursing  bear-wards,  "  'twere  better — to  j&ght 
against  me!  Could  you  defend  the  door,  Fd  go  my- 
self— quick! — the  game  fails  us —  Save  her — 'tis 
what  I  fight  for — see — ah,  they  have  us ;  we're  lost 
an  you  tarry  longer — quick — quick,  into  the  shop — " 
and  with  that,  Vytal,  assuming  a  more  aggressive 
method  than  hitherto,  so  drove  back  his  opponents, 
by  the  sheer  determination  and  boldness  of  his  at- 
tack, that  Marlowe^  finding  space  to  retreat,  and  being 

32 


A  Tale   of  the  Lost   Colony 

persuaded  by  the  othei  's  vehemence,  pushed  the  shop- 
door  open  behind  him,  and,  with  his  rapier  still  in 
play,  stepped  back  across  the  threshold.  Once  with- 
in the  shop  he  closed  the  door,  to  which  V3^tal  fell 
back  again  slowly,  and,  maintaining  his  old  position, 
made  further  ingress  for  the  moment  impossible. 

But  the  odds  were  now  almost  hopelessly  against 
the  soldier.  Frazer  had  borrowed  a  broadsword,  and, 
together  with  St.  Magil  and  three  of  the  bear-wards, 
who  out  of  six  alone  remained  unwounded,  sought 
to  break  through  Vytal's  wonderful  defence.  Fort- 
unately only  St.  Magil  and  his  companion  were  dex- 
terous swordsmen.  It  was  the  numbers,  not  the  skill, 
of  his  additional  opponents  that  Vytal  feared.  But 
Frazer's  broadsword,  although  somewhat  unwieldy 
in  an  unaccustomed  hand,  by  its  mere  weight  had 
nearly  outdone  the  light  rapier  opposing  it.  The 
soldier,  therefore,  sought  to  keep  this  heavy  blade  en- 
tirely on  the  defensive,  realizing  that  if  once  Frazer 
were  allowed  to  swing  it  freely  it  would  doubtless 
strike  through  the  cleverest  rapier  parry  that  could 
possibly  seek  to  avert  its  downward  cleavage. 

Few  contests  have  shown  a  shrewder  scientific  skill 
in  fencing  than  Vytal  now  pitted  against  the  superior 
force  of  his  antagonists.  Thrusting  viciously  at 
Frazer,  he  appeared  to  neglect  his  own  guard,  save 
where  he  opposed  his  poniard  against  St.  Magil's 
rapier.  By  this  feint  he  accomplished  a  well-con- 
ceived end,  rendering  Frazer 's  great  sword  merely  a 
defensive  weapon,  and  exposing  his  breast  invitingly 
to  the  foremost  of  the  unsuspecting  bear-wards,  who 
lunged  toward  the  opening  so  recklessly  as  to  neg- 
lect his  own  defence.  In  that  instant  Vytal's  rapier, 
like  lightning,  turned  aside  from  its  feigned  attack 
on  Frazer  and  pierced  the  bear- ward's  breast. 

As  the  mortally  wounded  man  fell  back,  momen- 

C  33 


John   Vytal 

tarily  hindering  the  onslaught  of  his  friends,  the  voice 
of  Gammer  Watkins  reached  Vytal  from  within  the 
shop.  ''Fool!''  she  cried  to  him, ''you  fight  for 
naught.  The  bird  ha'  flown  already  with  another — 
ha,  the  coxcomb  robs  you  of  your  game — " 

But  it  was  for  this  that  Vytal  waited.  His  plan 
concerning  the  girl's  safety  being  now  successfully 
executed,  left  him  free  to  act  entirely  for  himself.  He 
saw  the  folly  of  attempting  to  hold  out  longer  against 
so  great  odds,  with  no  hope  of  an  actual  victory.  His 
strength,  although  not  yet  seriously  impaired,  must 
inevitably  sooner  or  later  be  exhausted,  whereas  liis 
opponents  could  harbor  their  own  by  alternately  fall- 
ing back  to  rest  and  regain  their  breath  while  others 
in  turn  kept  him  occupied. 

With  this  realization,  Vytal  set  his  back  against 
the  door,  seeking  to  open  it  and  enter  the  shop,  but 
the  latch  held  it  against  him.  He  dared  not  call  to 
Gammer  Watkins  for  fear  of  betraying  his  plan  of 
escape  to  his  adversaries,  and  so,  to  their  amazement, 
with  not  a  trace  of  warning  he  flung  the  poniard  from 
his  left  hand  into  the  face  of  St.  Magil,  and,  darting 
that  hand  behind  him,  lifted  the  latch.  Instantly 
he  was  within  the  shop,  followed  by  Gorm,  Frazer, 
and  as  many  of  the  throng  as  could  make  their  way 
with  a  headlong  rush  after  him.  They  were  now  like 
hounds  lusting  for  the  blood  of  a  stag  at  bay,  except- 
ing two  among  the  foremost  to  enter,  whether  they 
would  or  not — namely,  the  terrified  breeches-maker 
and  the  watchman,  who,  lanthorn  in  hand,  had  wit- 
nessed the  contest  with  a  gaping  interest  instead  of 
seeking  to  end  it  as  the  law  demanded. 

From  the  shop's  entrance  straight  to  its  rear  wall 
ran  a  dark  passage,  at  the  end  of  which  a  window 
opened  high  above  the  Thames.  Beside  this  passage 
a  narrow  stairway  led  to  one  or  two  upper  chambers. 

34 


A  Tale   of  the    Lost  Colony 

Mounting  quickly  to  a  step  midway  on  the  staircase, 
the  breeches-maker  was  followed  by  many  others, 
who,  eager  to  gain  view  of  so  desperate  a  conflict  and 
to  see  the  final  harrying  of  the  prey,  pulled  one  an- 
other down  from  the  coveted  vantage-point,  trampling 
on  the  weaker  ones  that  fell.  The  watchman,  gath- 
ering up  his  long  gown,  had  succeeded  in  arriving 
at  the  breeches  -  maker's  side,  thanks  to  his  official 
superiority,  and  now,  as  he  held  his  lanthorn  out  at 
arm's-length  over  the  passage,  the  dim  light  through 
its  horn  screens  fell  upon  Vytal  and  others  in  the  hall- 
way, who,  headed  by  Gorm  and  Frazer,  were  press- 
ing their  game  with  redoubled  fury.  The  staircase 
groaned  and  creaked  beneath  its  trampling  burden, 
the  house  seeming  to  echo  the  clash  and  whisper  of 
steel,  while  now  and  again  a  bitter  oath  rang  out 
above  the  varied  clamor.  For  the  rage  of  Vytal's 
enemies  only  increased  as  it  became  evident  that  the 
number  of  those  capable  of  direct  attack  was  nec- 
essarily limited  by  the  narrow  passage. 

Thus  he  still  remained  unscathed. 

Assuming  again  the  defensive  until  he  had  fallen 
back  to  a  spot  immediately  beneath  the  watchman's 
overhanging  light,  he  suddenly  struck  upward  with 
his  rapier,  and,  knocking  the  lanthorn  from  its  hold- 
er's grasp,  brought  to  the  shop  utter  darkness  save 
for  a  glimmer  of  starlight  that  shone  faintly  through 
the  rear  window. 

Then,  after  the  first  bewildering  moment  of  gloom, 
when  hoarse  cries  for  lights  drowned  softer  sounds, 
and  the  staircase  voiced  its  strain  with  new  groans 
under  the  stampede,  and  each  swordsman  mistook 
his  neighbor  for  the  enemy,  with  the  result  of  blun- 
dering wounds  in  the  black  passage — after  that  mo- 
ment of  havoc  there  came  a  lull,  a  loud  volley  of  oaths, 
and  the  breeches-maker's  laugh  was  heard  crackling 

35 


John  Vytal:  A  Tale  of  the  Lost  Colony 

like  dry  wood  amid  the  roar  of  an  angry  flame.  For 
one  instant  even  the  patch  of  sky  framed  by  the  case- 
ment was  obscured,  and  those  looking  toward  the 
window  saw  it  filled  by  a  dark  form  that  came  and 
went  as  a  cloud  across  the  moon. 

Vytal,  having  gained  the  sill,  had  leaped  far  out 
into  the  Thames. 


JBooft  UH 


CHAPTER  I 

"What  star  shines  yonder  in  the  east? 
The  loadstar  of  my  life." 

—Marlowe,  in  The  Jew  of  Malta. 

"  The  8th  we  weighed  anchor  at  Plymouth,  and 
departed  thence  for  Virginia/' 

With  this  terse  statement  of  fact  an  old-time  trav- 
eller is  content  to  record  the  beginning  of  a  memo- 
rable voj^age. 

It  was  on  the  8th  of  May,  1587,  that  two  ships 
— one  known  as  the  Admiral,  of  a  hundred  and 
twenty  tons,  the  other  a  fly-boat — set  sail  westward 
from  the  coast  of  England.  There  was  also  a  pin- 
nace of  small  burden  carried  on  board  the  larger 
vessel,  and  ready  to  be  manned  for  the  navigation 
of  shallow  waters ;  but  this,  like  a  child  in  arms, 
was  a  thing  of  promise  rather  than  present  ability. 

The  aim  of  the  voyage  is  briefly  outlined:  to  es- 
tablish an  English  colony  in  Virginia,  where  previ- 
ous attempts  at  settlement  had  resulted  in  desertion 
and  no  success;  to  find  fifteen  men  who  had  been 
left  the  year  before  to  hold  the  territory  for  Eng- 
land; to  plant  crops;  to  produce  and  manufacture 
commodities  for  export;  to  extend  commerce  and 
dominions ;  to  demand  the  lion's  share  between  pos- 
sessions of  France  and  Spain — the  great  central 
portion  of  a  continent;  and  thus  in  all  ways  first 
and  last  to  uphold  the  supremacy  and  majesty  of 
England  and  the  queen. 

39 


John   Vytal 

The  ships  had  been  provisioned  at  Portsmouth 
and  Cowes,  where  many  of  the  colonists  embarked, 
inchiding  among  the  notable  ones  two  Indians, 
Manteo  and  Towaye  by  name,  who,  several  years 
before,  had  been  brought  to  England  from  Roanoke 
by  Arthur  Barlow.  At  Portsmouth,  among  others, 
three  soldiers  came  aboard,  booted  and  spurred  as 
though  from  a  recent  journey  in  the  saddle ;  the  one 
slim,  tall,  and  bronzed  by  the  sun ;  another  no  shorter, 
but  broad  and  heavy  in  proportion ;  the  third  laugh- 
able in  aspect,  being  fat,  as  if,  like  a  stage  buffoon, 
he  had  stuffed  a  pillow  in  his  doublet,  and  leading, 
much  to  the  astonishment  of  the  passengers,  a  bear- 
cub  that  copied  his  own  waddling  gait,  and  followed 
on  a  chain  of  bondage  with  remarkable  fidelity. 

In  the  evening  one  of  these  soldiers  stood  alone  on 
the  AdmiraVs  high  stern,  a  motionless  figure,  clean- 
cut  against  the  sky.  His  eyes,  blue  like  the  deep 
sea,  looked  back  toward  the  receding  coast-line,  fixed 
on  the  dissolving  land  with  a  resigned  fatahty  and 
regret. 

With  the  sun,  westward,  the  two  ships  went  down 
slowly  over  the  horizon,  leaving  England  a  memory 
behind — a  memory,  yet  very  real,  while  the  haven, 
far  ahead,  somewhere  beneath  the  crimson  sky, 
seemed  but  a  dream  that  could  not  shape  itself — a 
dream,  a  picture,  bright,  alluring,  undetailed,  like 
the  golden  painting  of  the  sun.  Tall  and  erect  as  a 
naked  fir-tree  the  man  stood  on  the  top  deck  in  the 
stern — still  stood  when  night  came  and  there  was 
not  even  a  melting  horizon  to  hold  his  gaze — still 
stood  as  though  to  turn  would  be  to  wake  forever 
from  a  vision  beside  which  all  things  actual  must 
seem  unreal.  But  at  last  he  turned  resolutely  and, 
drawing  his  cloak  about  him,  glanced  off  toward  the 
darkening  w^est;  then,  with  a  word  to  one  and  an- 

40 


A  Tale  of  the   Lost  Colony 

other  as  he  passed  his  fellow-voyagers,  he  sought 
the  ship's  master  to  discuss  plans  for  the  mainten- 
ance and  general  welfare  of  the  colony. 

As  he  was  about  to  enter  the  main  cabin  a  soldier 
accosted  him.     "  The  die  is  cast,  captain/' 

''  Yes,  Rouse ;  we  have  done  well  in  starting.  May 
ill  fortune  throw  no  better.'' 

"Nay,"  observed  the  Saxon  giant,  in  low  tones. 
''  But  already  I  mistrust  this  Simon  Ferdinando,  the 
master  of  our  ship." 

''  He  is  but  a  subordinate.  We  have  the  governor 
and  his  twelve  assistants  to  depend  on." 

"Ay,  captain,  and  you." 

"I  am  one  of  the  twelve." 

"God  be  praised!"  said  Hugh,  fervently.  "But 
there's  mischief  in  Simon.  I  always  mislike  these 
small  men." 

"  You  forget  our  Roger  Prat,  no  higher  than  your 
belt ;  and  yet,  Hugh  Rouse,  even  you  have  no  greater 
fidelity." 

"  'Tis  true,  but  his  breadth  is  considerable.  Cleave 
him  in  twain  downward,  as  he's  ofttimes  said,  then 
stand  his  paunch  on  the  top  of  his  head,  and  Roger 
Prat  would  be  as  tall  as  any  of  us.  'Tis  merely  the 
manner  of  measurement." 

"In  all  things,"  said  Vytal,  with  a  fleeting  smile, 
and  wishing  to  see  this  Ferdinando,  the  Admiral's 
master,  in  order  to  judge  of  the  man  for  himself,  he 
entered  the  main  cabin. 

With  Ferdinando  he  found  John  White,  the  gov- 
ernor appointed  by  Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  at  whose  ex- 
pense the  voyage  had  been  undertaken.  The  gov- 
ernor, whom  Vytal  had  met  but  once  before,  was  a 
man  of  medium  stature  and  engaging  personality. 
His  expression,  frank  and  open,  promised  well  for 
sincere  government,  but  his  chin,  only  partly  hidden 

41 


John  Vytal 

by  a  scant  beard,  lacked  strong  determination.  Fer- 
dinando,  on  the  other  hand,  to  whom  Vytal  was  now 
introduced  for  the  first  time,  so  shifted  his  eyes  while 
talking,  much  as  a  general  moves  an  army's  front 
to  conceal  the  true  position,  that  candor  had  no  part 
in  their  expression;  while  his  low  forehead  and  close 
brows  bespoke  more  cunning  than  ability.  He  was, 
moreover,  undoubtedly  of  Latin  blood;  therefore,  in 
the  judgment  of  Englishmen,  given  rather  to  strategy 
than  open  courage.  Nevertheless,  his  reputation  as 
a  navigator  had  not  yet  suffered.  That  he  relied 
much  on  this  was  made  evident  by  his  first  conversa- 
tion with  Vytal.  In  answer  to  the  latter's  questions 
concerning  matters  that  bore  directly  on  the  manage- 
ment of  the  little  fleet,  Ferdinando  replied,  "Since 
Sir  Walter  Raleigh  has  wisely  left  the  management 
to  me,  you  need  have  no  fear,  I  assure  you,  regarding 
your  welfare. " 

"What,  then,"  asked  Vytal,  "if  you  object  not  to 
the  inquiry  of  one  who  studies  that  he  may  duly 
practise,  what,  then,  are  the  main  rules  we  ob- 
serve?" 

To  this  the  master  made  no  answer,  but,  with  an 
air  of  indulgent  patronage,  handed  Vytal  several 
sheets  of  paper  well  filled  with  writing.  The  soldier 
glanced  over  them,  and  read  among  others  the  fol- 
lowing orders :  "  That  every  evening  the  fly  -  boat 
come  up  and  speak  with  the  Admiral,  at  seven  of  the 
clock,  or  between  that  and  eight;  and  shall  receive 
the  order  of  her  course  as  Master  Ferdinando  shall 
direct.  If  to  any  man  in  the  fleet  there  happen  any 
mischance,  they  shall  presently  shoot  off  two  pieces 
by  day,  and  if  it  be  by  night  two  pieces  and  show 
two  lights." 

When  Vytal  had  read  these  and  many  similar  ar- 

42 


it 


A  Tale   of  the    Lost  Colony 

tides  he  turned  slowly  to  Ferdinando.     "A  careful 
system.     Is  it  all  from  your  own  knowledge?'" 
From  whose  else,  think  you?'' 
I  make  no  conjecture,  but  only  ask  if  it  be  yours 
and  yours  alone." 

"  It  is/'  replied  Simon,  and  turning  to  John  White, 
the  governor,  who  had  said  little,  he  added,  "  Your 
assistant,  worshipful  sir,  seemingly  hath  doubt  of 
my  word."     White  turned  to  Vytal  questioningly. 

"Nay,"  observed  the  soldier,  ''I  would  show  no 
doubt  w^hatever,"  and  so  saying  he  left  the  cabin. 

Similar  conversations  followed  on  subsequent  even- 
ings, Ferdinando  boasting  much  of  his  seamanship; 
and  once  the  governor  went  out  with  Vytal  from  the 
room  of  state.  ''You  mistrust  our  ship's  master. 
Captain  Vytal,  although  you  would  show  it  not  on 
considering  the  expedience  of  harmony.  Wherefore 
this  lack  of  faith?" 

''Because  the  orders  and  articles  are  framed  ex- 
actly upon  the  plan  of  those  issued  by  Frobisher  in 
1578,  when  he  sought  a  northwest  passage,  and  by 
Sir  Humphrey  Gilbert  in  1583,  changed,  of  course, 
to  suit  our  smaller  fleet.  The  worthy  Ferdinando 
has  effected  a  wise  combination ;  he  has  done  well — 
and  lied  in  doing  it." 

The  governor  looked  up  into  Vytal 's  dark  face  for 
the  first   time,   searchingly.      "How    came   you   to* 
know?"  he  queried. 

"  I  remember  things. " 

"But  where—" 

"  I  forget  other  things,"  was  Vytal's  answer.  "  An 
you'll  permit  me  I'll  leave  you.  There's  a  man's 
face  under  that  light" — he  was  walking  toward  it 
now  alone — "a  familiar  face,"  he  repeated  to  him- 
self, and  the  next  minute  exclaimed  in  amazement, 

Tis  the  man  who  fought  beside  me  on  the  bridge!" 

43 


it ) 


John  Vytal 


"Ay,"  said  the  poet,  smiling,  '''tis  Kyt  Marlowe,* 
at  your  service  in  reality/' 

Vytal  scrutinized  him  keenly,  Christopher  return- 
ing the  gaze  with  a  look  of  admiration  that  increased 
as  his  eyes  fell  once  more  on  the  so-called  bodkin 
at  the  soldier's  side.  ''You  are  readier  with  that 
implement  than  with  your  tongue,"  he  observed, 
finally. 

"The  most  important  questions,"  returned  Vytal, 
"are  asked  with  an  upraised  eyebrow,  an  impatient 
eye."  There  was  an  abrupt  cogency  and  gravity  of 
manner  about  the  soldier  that  sometimes  piqued  his 
fellows  into  an  attempted  show  of  indifference  by  lev- 
ity and  freedom  of  utterance.  They  made  as  though 
they  would  assert  their  independence  and  disavow 
an  allegiance  that  was  demanded  only  by  the  man's 
strong,  compelling  personality,  and  seldom  or  never 
by  a  word.  He  was  masterful,  and  they,  recognizing 
the  silent  mastery,  must  for  pride's  sake  rebel  before 
succumbing  to  its  power.  Marlowe,  with  all  his  ad- 
miration, born  of  the  soldier's  far-famed  prowess  and 
imperious  will,  proved  no  exception  to  this  rule. 

"I  marvel,"  he  observed,  with  a  slight  irony  and 
daring  banter,  "  that  so  dominant  a  nature  is  readily 
subject  to  the  coercive  beauty  of  women's  faces.  Even 
the  Wolf's  eyes  may  play  the — " 

"What?" 

"The  sheep's."  It  was  a  bold  taunt,  and  the  poet 
was  surprised  at  his  own  effrontery.  But  like  a  child 
he  saw  the  fire  as  a  plaything. 

"Explain."  The  word  came  from  Vytal  quietly 
and  with  no  impatience. 

*  As  there  is  absolutely  no  reliable  record  of  Marlowe's  per- 
sonal life  and  dwelling-place  at  this  time,  I  have  felt  justified 
in  attributing  his  generally  acknowledged  absence  from  Lon- 
don to  a  Virginia  voyage. 

44 


A  Tale   of  the   Lost  Colony 

"  Oh,  there  have  been  other  beguihng  faces,  so  Fve 
heard.     A  tale  is  told — ''  he  hesitated. 

"Of  whom?" 

"Of  you." 

"What  is  it?" 

"A  tale  vaguely  hinting  at  a  court  amour.  "Tis 
said  the  queen  would  have  knighted  a  certain  cap- 
tain for  deeds  of  valor  in  the  south;  but  at  the  mo- 
ment of  her  promising  the  spurs,  she  found  him  all 
unheedful  of  her  words,  found  him,  in  fact,  with  eyes 
gazing  off  entranced  at  a  girlish  face  in  the  presence 
chamber,  the  face  of  her  Majesty's  youngest  lady- 
in-waiting.  To  those  who  saw  our  Queen  Elizabeth 
then  and  read  her  face,  the  issue  was  seemingly  plain- 
er than  day,  blacker  than  night. 

"'Nay,  Captain  Vytal,'  said  the  queen,  her  lip 
curling  with  that  smile  of  hers  which  is  silent  des- 
tiny itself — 'nay,  she  is  not  for  you ;  nor  yet  is  knight- 
hood either.  Our  boons  are  not  lightly  thrown  away, 
so  lightly  to  be  received.'  And  then,  says  the  tale, 
she  paused  with  a  frown,  to  cast  about  for  an  alter- 
native to  the  benefit  she  would,  a  moment  before, 
have  conferred  most  graciously.  From  her  dark 
expression  the  courtiers  supposed  that  ignominy 
would  take  the  place  of  compliment  in  the  soldier's 
cup.  But  at  this  instant  her  Majesty's  favorite. 
Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  'Knight  of  the  Cloak,'  made 
bold  to  intervene  on  his  friend's  behalf.  '  An  I  may 
venture,'  he  said,  in  a  low  voice,  'to  argue  the  case 
before  so  unerring  a  judge,  I  would  assert  from  my 
own  experience  that  this  man's  first  sudden  sight  of 
a  divine  radiance  has  dazzled  and  blinded  him,  so 
that  perforce  he  must  seek  a  lesser  brilliancy  to  ac- 
custom his  eyes  to  the  perfect  vision.  The  moth, 
despairing  of  a  star,  falls  to  the  level  of  a  candle.' 
Then  her  Majesty  turned  to  Sir  Walter  with  a  chang- 

45 


John  Vytal 

ing,  kinder  look.  And  before  she  could  glance  again 
at  the  captain  to  seek  for  an  acquiescence  to  the  flat- 
tery (which,  I  believe,  would  have  been  sought  in 
vain,  for  the  soldier  is  said  to  be  desperate  true),  be- 
fore she  could  harbor  a  second  resentful  thought, 
the  knight  spoke  again.  '  There  is  an  augury  about 
this  Captain  Vytal,'  he  declared,  'a  prophecy  sung 
at  his  birth  by  a  roving  gypsy  maid.  "  He  shall  be,'' 
said  she,  ''a  queen's  defender — the  brother  of  a  king." 
I  pray  your  Majesty  leave  him  free  to  prove  the  truth 
of  this  prediction.  There  is  but  one  queen  to  whom 
it  can  refer,  for  there  is  one  queen  only  under  heaven 
worthy  of  the  name.  Of  the  king  I  know  not,  but  it 
may  be  that  the  king,  too,  is  our  most  gracious  sov- 
ereign, Elizabeth,  for  while  in  beauty  and  grace  she 
is  a  queen,  in  majesty  and  regal  strength  no  monarch 
is  more  kingly.  "A  queen's  defender — the  brother 
of  a  king."  It  has  all  the  presumption  of  a  prophet's 
words.  For  the  latter  condition  is  impossible ;  none 
can  ever  rise  so  high  as  to  be  honored  by  your  Maj- 
esty with  the  name  of  brother' — Sir  Walter's  voice 
sank  almost  to  a  whisper — 'indeed,'  he  added,  dar- 
ingly, '  none  would  choose  the  name.  But — a  queen's 
defender — that  means  more.' 

''  Her  Majesty  turned  to  the  soldier.  '  Would  you 
be  your  queen's  defender  to  the  end?'  she  demanded, 
sternly,  but  now  without  menace  in  her  voice. 

"' To  the  death. ' 

"'Appoint  him,'  she  said  to  Raleigh,  'where  you 
will.     The  spurs  are  yet  to  be  won  by  the  defence. ' " 

Marlowe  paused,  his  story  finished.  "And  thus, 
you  see,"  he  added,  as  Vytal  made  no  rejoinder,  "I 
was  right  in  saying  that  more  than  one  fair  face  had 
hazarded  your  welfare." 

"  No,  you  were  wrong." 

The  poet's  dark  eyes  opened  wide  with  a  query, 

46 


A  Tale   of  the    Lost   Colony 

but  he  said  nothing  in  words,  for  the  f eehng  of  pique 
had  already  passed  with  his  airy  rebelUon  against 
the  other's  trenchant  monosyllables. 

''The  face  in  court/'  avowed  Vytal,  as  though 
half  to  himself,  "  and  the  face  in  the  Southwark  Gate- 
way, belong  to  one  and  the  same  woman.  I  ask  you 
outright  wherefore  you  met  me  not  at  the  '  Tabard 
Inn '  ?     Whither  went  the  maid?" 

"Now  there/'  replied  Marlowe,  his  eyes  cast  down, 
"  I  must  play  the  silent  part.     In  truth,  I  know  not." 

"Know  not?" 

"  Nay,  for  when  we  had  come  safely  from  the  por- 
ter's lodge,  she  demanded  that  I  should  take  hei  to 
a  barge,  that  she  might  go  thereby  to  London.  We 
had  no  more  than  set  foot  within  the  boat,  and  I  was 
questioning  her  as  to  the  directions  I  should  give  the 
waterman,  when  another  wherry  came  beside  us, 
seemingly  just  arrived  from  across  the  river,  and  a 
man  in  that,  scrutinizing  us,  slowly  spoke  to  her. 
Then,  thanking  me,  and  bidding  me  thank  you  for 
that  which  she  said  was  beyond  all  payment,  she 
entered  the  wherry  with  the  other,  and  was  quickly 
conveyed  toward  London." 

For  several  minutes  Vytal  was  silent ;  then  at  last 
he  asked,  quietly,  "Did  the  man  call  her  by  name?" 

"  By  the  name  of  Eleanor." 

"  And  she  said  no  more  of  me?" 

"  Yes,  much,  as  we  went  toward  the  river ;  much 
concerning  your  gallantry;  and  from  the  barge 
wherein  she  sat,  beside  her  new-found  friend,  she 
cried  back  to  me  that  with  all  speed  they  would  send 
you  aid  to  the  bridge.  'Tis  evident  the  assistance 
came." 

Vytal  made  no  denial.  The  method  of  his  escape 
was  but  a  trifling  detail  of  the  past.  He  shrugged  his 
shoulders.    "  'Tis  well  I  strive  not  only  for  reward/' 

47 


^  John  Vytal 

''Was  it  not  reward/'  asked  the  poet,  "to  look 
once  upon  that  face  with  the  eye  of  a  protector?'' 

"Yes/' said  Vytal. 

"And  to  see  her  bosom  heave  gently  to  the  rise 
and  fall  of  the  universal  life-breath  tide,  which  alone 
hath  poetry's  perfect  motion,  and  to  note  its  trouble 
in  the  rhythm  as  in  the  breast  of  a  sleeping  sea — 
was  that  not  recompense?" 

"Yes/' 

"And  her  eyes — the  privilege  to  tell  of  them,  to 
wonder  vainly,  and  seek  with  all  poetic  fervor  for 
words  that  hold  their  spirit — is  it  not  invaluable 
reward  ?" 

"Yes,"  said  Vytal. 

"  They  might  well,"  declared  the  poet, "  be  the  twin 
stars  of  a  man's  destiny." 

"Yes,"  and  the  two  men,  standing  amidships 
near  the  rail,  looked  at  each  other  steadfastly,  Mar- 
lowe at  the  last  turning  his  gaze  downward  to  the 
starlit  water.  It  seemed  to  Vytal  as  though  a  spell 
held  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  poet's  face,  across  which 
the  lanthorn  gleams  fell  uncertainly,  intensifying 
a  shadow  that  came  not  only  from  outward  causes. 
And  the  spell  possessing  Vytal,  portended  some  new 
condition — change — tidings — he  could  not  tell  what. 

Suddenly  Marlowe,  as  if  by  an  impulse,  caught 
his  arm.  "Vytal,  she  is  there."  He  pointed  to  the 
light  of  the  fly-boat  far  behind.  "  She  came  aboard 
at  Plymouth  with  a  slim,  weak-seeming  fellow  whom 
I  take  to  be  her  brother,  for  his  name,  like  hers,  is 
Dare — Ananias  Dare,  one  of  the  governor's  assist- 
ants. 'Twas  he  w^ho  met  her  at  the  bridge.  Vytal, 
she  is  there." 

The  soldier  followed  his  gaze.  "There!"  The 
word  came  in  a  vague  tone  of  wonder,  as  from  a  sleep- 
er at  the  gates  of  a  dream;  and  with  no  comment, 

48 


A  Tale    of  the    Lost   Colony- 
no  reproach,  no  question,  Vytal  went  away  to  be 
alone. 

For  many  minutes  after  he  had  gone,  Marlowe 
stood  looking  into  the  shrouds,  but  at  last,  as  though 
their  shadows  palled  on  his  buoyant  spirit,  he  wan- 
dered along  the  deck,  singing  to  himself  a  song  of 
genuine  good  cheer.  And  soon,  to  his  delight,  the 
notes  of  a  musical  instrument,  coming  from  some- 
where amidships,  half  accompanied  his  tune.  Eager- 
ly he  sought  the  player,  and  came  on  a  scene  that 
pleased  him.  For  there  against  the  bulwark  sat  a 
stout  vagabond  cross-legged  on  the  deck,  strumming 
merrily  on  a  cittern,  as  though  rapidity  of  movement 
were  the  sole  desire  of  his  heart.  The  instrument, 
not  unlike  a  lute,  but  wire-strung,  and  therefore  more 
metallic  in  sound,  rested  somewhat  awkwardly  on 
his  knee,  for  his  stomach,  being  large,  kept  it  from 
a  natural  position.  The  player's  fat  hand,  never- 
theless, with  a  plectrum  between  the  thumb  and  fore- 
finger, jigged  across  the  strings,  his  round  head 
keeping  time  the  while  and  his  pop-eyes  rolling. 

"'Tis  beyond  doubt  that  Roger  Prat,''  said  Mar- 
lowe to  himself,  ''Vytal's  vagabond  follower,  and 
avenger  of  King  Lud,  the  bear." 

Ranged  around  this  striking  figure  were  many 
forms,  dark,  uncertain,  confused  in  outline,  and  above 
the  forms  faces — faces  vaguely  lighted  by  an  over- 
hanging lanthorn,  and  varied  in  expression,  yet  all 
rough,  coarse,  uncouthly  jubilant  with  wine  and  song. 

In  the  middle  of  this  half-circle  a  woman  sat  pre- 
dominant in  effect.  Her  hair,  riotous  about  her  neck, 
shone  like  gold  in  the  wavering  gleam;  her  red  lips 
were  parted  witchingly.  She  was  singing  low  a 
popular  catch,  in  which  "heigh-ho,"  ''sing  hey," 
and  ''welladay,"  as  frequent  refrains,  were  the  only 
intelligible  phrases. 

D  49 


John  Vytal:   A  Tale  of  the  Lost  Colony 

On  seeing  Marlowe  she  rose,  even  the  refrains  be- 
coming inarticulate  in  the  laughter  of  her  greeting. 

"  Why,  ^tis  Kyt !"  she  cried—"  Kind  Kyt,  the  poet!'' 
whereat,  much  to  the  amusement  of  her  admiring 
audience,  she  stepped  lightly  toward  him  and,  throw- 
ing her  head  back,  asked  outright,  "  Saw  you  ever 
so  comely  a  youth?''  then,  with  a  coquettish,  ban- 
tering look  at  the  cittern-player,  "  Good-night,  Roger 
Prat,  I'm  going,"  and  she  led  Marlowe  away  into 
the  darkness. 

"  Gyll ! "  he  exclaimed, "  Gyll  Croyden !  Is't  really 
thee?  How  camest  thou  to  leave  thy  Bankside  realm, 
thy  conquest  of  rakes  and  gallants?" 

She  laughed  anew  at  this  and  shrugged  her  shoul- 
ders. ''How  camest  thou,  Kyt  Marlowe,  to  leave 
thy  Blackfriars,  and  thy  conquest  of  play-house  folk, 
for  the  wild  Virginia  voyage?" 

The  poet  laughed  as  carelessly  as  herself.  ''  Be- 
cause 'tis  wild,"  he  answered.  "Indeed,  I  know  no 
other  reason." 

"It  is  my  own,"  she  said.  "I  grew  stale  in  Lon- 
don." 

"  Not  thy  voice,  Gyll.  Methinks  'tis  all  for  that  I 
like  thee." 

She  pouted,  then  smiled  contentedly.  "Come^ 
Kyt,  away  into  the  bow.     I'll  sing  to  thee  alone." 

And  in  another  part  of  the  ship  Vytal  was  recall- 
ing one  of  the  rules  of  sailing,  "  That  every  evening 
the  fly-boat  come  up  and  speak  with  the  Admiral, 
at  seven  of  the  clock,  or  between  that  and  eight; 
and  shall  receive  the  order  of  her  course  as  Master 
Ferdinando  shall  direct." 

"To-morrow  at  seven  of  the  clock,"  he  repeated, 
"or  between  that  and  eight."  I 


CHAPTER  II 

"In  frame  of  which  nature  hath  showed  more  skill 
Than  when  she  gave  eternal  chaos  form/' 

— Marlowe,  in  Tamburlaine. 

Although  on  the  second  night  there  came  but 
little  wind,  the  Admiral's  master  found  it  necessary 
to  strike  both  topsails  in  order  that  the  less  speedy 
fly-boat  might  come  up  for  his  orders,  as  the  rule  de- 
manded. But  even  with  this  decrease  of  canvas  the 
sun  had  set  and  darkness  fallen  before  the  two  ships 
lay  side  by  side.  At  last,  however,  being  lashed  to- 
gether with  hawsers,  so  that  men  might  pass  from 
one  to  the  other  without  difficulty,  they  drifted  beam 
to  beam — two  waifs  of  the  sea,  seeking  each  other's 
companionship  on  the  bed  of  the  dark  ocean,  like 
children  afraid  of  the  night.  But  that  night,  at  least, 
was  kind  to  them,  though  only  the  lightest  breeze 
favored  their  progress.  The  sea  lay  smooth  as  a 
mountain-guarded  lake,  save  where  the  two  slow- 
moving  stems  disturbed  its  surface,  awakening  rip- 
ples that  rose,  mingled,  and  dispersed,  to  seek  their 
sleep  again  astern.  And  the  ripples  played  with  the 
waiting  beams  of  stars,  played  and  slumbered  and 
played  again,  but  beyond  the  circle  of  this  night-time 
dalliance  all  was  rest.  Here  the  ripples  were  as  smiles 
on  the  face  of  the  waters,  and  the  gleams  were  the 
gleams  of  laughing  eyes ;  but  there,  far  out,  the  sea 
slept,  with  none  of  this  frivolous  elfinry  to  break  its 
peace. 

51 


John  Vytal 

Yet  even  now,  up  over  the  ocean,  as  a  woman  who 
rises  from  her  bed  and  seeks  her  mirror  to  see  if  sleep 
has  enhanced  her  beauty,  the  moon  rose  from  behind 
a  long,  low  hill  of  clouds,  rose  flushed  as  from  a  pas- 
sionate hour,  and  paled  slowly  among  the  stars. 

From  the  Admiral's  deck  a  young  man  watched 
her.  ''It  is  Elizabeth/'  he  said,  ''leaving  Leicester 
for  her  people's  sake.  Roseate  love  gives  place  to 
silver  sovereignty.  The  woman  is  sacrificed  that 
we  may  gain  a  queen.  'Tis  well  that  Mistress  Dare 
owes  no  such  costly  relinquishment  to  the  state.  Few 
compel  the  love  of  men  like  Vytal — and  yet — and 
yet  I  would  have — " 

But  a  laugh  at  the  poet's  side  interrupted  him, 
and  a  girl  of  comely  figure  thrust  her  arm  through 
his  own.  "Moper,"said  she.  "Come  now;  Roger 
Prat  hath  brought  his  bear  to  show  us,  and  there 
will  be  no  end  of  merrymaking.  We  have  I  know 
not  what  aboard — two  morris-dancers,  hobby-horses, 
and  the  like  conceits  of  May-time." 

"By  Heaven,  Gyll!"  exclaimed  Christopher,  "one 
might  think  our  governor  was  Lord  of  Misrule  and 
the  whole  voyage  but  a  Whitsun  jollification.  Where- 
fore these  absurdities?" 

"To  entertain  the  savage  people,"  *  quoth  Gyll, 
leading  him  off  tyrannically.  "On  my  word,  Kyt, 
'tis  so  !    We  would  win  them  by  fair  means,  you 


see. 


And  you  me  by  the  same  pleasantries,"  returned 
Marlowe,  more  lightly,  as  her  mood  captured  him. 
"Mistress  Croyden,  thou'rt  a  savage  thyself,  a  sweet 
savage,  Gyll,  and  they're  all  for  winning  thee,  I  sup- 
pose." 

She  smiled  complacently,  with  a  full  conscious- 

*See  Hakluyt's  Voyages. 
52 


A  Tale   of  the    Lost  Colony 

ness  of  the  charm  that  made  her  popular,  and  Mar- 
lowe laughed  at  the  expression  of  childlike  vanity. 

Then  for  an  instant  his  brow  clouded,  his  flattery 
became  more  lavish  and  exaggerated. 

A  tall,  unmistakable  figure  had  passed  them  in 
the  darkness,  like  the  person  of  a  dream,  and  Vytal, 
having  gone  to  the  fly-boat,  was  even  now  in  eager 
search. 

The  vessel,  a  small  but  cumbrous  thing  of  the 
Dutch  galliot  type,  with  mountainous  stern  and 
stolid  bow,  offered  little  encouragement  to  the  seeker. 
For  its  lights  only  revealed  vague  faces,  jvhile  its 
masts  and  shadows,  decks  and  turnings,  seemed  to 
form  an  agglomeration  of  dark  hiding-places  in  which 
any  one  might  ail-unwittingly  stand  concealed.  But 
for  the  moon,  now  sailing  high,  recognition  would 
have  been  impossible. 

The  soldier,  moreover,  customarily  so  direct  of 
method,  felt  a  certain  embarrassment  and  helpless- 
ness in  this  unprecedented  adventure.  Having  un- 
til now  avoided  women  with  a  real  indifference,  his 
present  want  of  practice  gave  him  the  awkward  feel- 
ing of  a  raw  recruit.  He  was  momentarily  at  a 
loss  as  to  the  best  manner  of  procedure.  Since  he 
knew  none  aboard  the  vessel  of  whom  he  could  in- 
quire concerning  Eleanor  Dare,  the  chance  of  his 
meeting  her,  without  special  purpose,  seemed  slight. 
He  considered  the  expedience  of  accosting  at  random 
some  stranger,  who  might  perhaps  at  least  know 
the  girl  by  sight.  Weighing  this  plan  in  his  mind, 
he  approached  a  company  of  the  voj^agers,  who,  gath- 
ered in  a  circle  about  the  mainmast,  were  kneeling 
devoutly,  while  an  Oxford  preacher  read  the  evening 
prayer.  It  was  in  harmony  with  the  tranquil  even- 
ing— the  picture  of  those  forty  or  fifty  men  and  wom- 
en beneath  a  dim  lanthorn,  that,  deepening  the  shad- 

53 


John  Vytal 

ows  beyond  its  scope,  lit  up  here  and  there  a  face 
reverent  with  supphcation.  And  to  the  earnest  piety 
in  the  pastor's  voice,  the  restless  water  from  stem 
to  stern  added  a  mystical  whisper  of  unknown 
things. 

At  length,  as  a  prayer  for  the  general  welfare  of 
the  colony  drew  to  a  close,  Vytal,  who  had  been  stand- 
ing on  the  outskirts  of  the  circle,  his  head  bowed  and 
bared,  raised  his  eyes  to  the  preacher.  Then,  from 
the  minister's  uplifted  gaze  and  hands  outstretched 
in  benediction,  his  glance  wandered  to  the  back- 
ground of  suppliant  figures,  whose  faces,  as  they 
rose  at  the  conclusion  of  the  service,  w^ere  distinctly 
visible.  Soldiers  were  there,  and  gentlemen,  mar- 
iners, planters,  and  cooks,  musicians,  carpenters, 
masons,  and  traders,  and,  in  the  foremost  line  of  the 
circle,  a  little  knot  of  women  and  children.  Toward 
these  Vytal  turned  his  gaze.  They  seemed  workers 
of  a  spell — co-workers  with  the  murmurous  sea,  and 
the  vague  shadows,  in  subduing  and  softening  the 
picture. 

Vytal  started  and  instinctively  stepped  forward. 
The  whole  scene  had  dissolved  now,  save  for  one  pre- 
dominant figure.  Seemingly  as  though  merely  to 
form  a  background  for  her,  these  men  and  women 
knelt  there ;  as  though  to  shine  upon  her  alone,  the 
lanthorn  had  been  hung  above  her  head ;  as  though 
the  shadows,  daring  not  to  cross  her,  were  there  to 
obscure  all  other  faces  that  hers  might  be  the  better 
seen;  as  though  to  her  the  sea  whispered,  for  she 
alone  could  understand. 

Vytal  stood  motionless,  watching  her  with  hunger 
in  his  eyes. 

Her  beauty,  of  that  rare  kind  which  disarms  criti- 
cism even  while  suggesting  it,  was  not  a  flash  to 
startle  fleetingly  the  observer,  but  a  subtle  charm, 

54 


A  Tale    of  the   Lost  Colony 

with  all  those  deeply  suggestive  qualities  of  form 
and  feature  which  weave  themselves  into  the  very 
heart  of  memory.  Hers  was  no  brilliant  contrast 
of  color  in  hair  and  brows  and  cheeks,  but  rather  a 
perfect  harmony.  The  light  brown  of  her  hair  blent 
with  her  hazel  eyes  and  with  the  fine  straight  lines 
above  them.  Her  color  came  and  went  with  each 
change  of  expression,  like  the  transitory  flush  of 
earliest  morning;  but  generally  her  face  was  of  a 
clear  cream  tint,  which  died  away  softly  in  the  russet 
hair. 

The  worshippers  were  now  separating,  and  she, 
by  the  side  of  a  thin,  weak-looking  man,  who,  from 
Marlowe's  description,  was  probably  her  brother, 
came  near  to  Vytal. 

He  stepped  back  into  a  dense  shadow,  turning 
half  away. 

"Nay,''  he  heard  her  say,  coldly,  ''you  know  I 
would  be  alone  oftentimes  at  evening.  Solitude  and 
reverie  are  indispensable  to  some  natures,  and  mine 
is  one  of  these.  I  shall  be  safe,  and  if  need  be  you  can 
find  me  when  you  will  up  there  in  the  stern.''  AVith 
that  she  left  her  companion.  But  at  first  Vytal 
could  not  bring  himself  to  follow  her.  She  had  ex- 
pressed a  wish:  it  was  his  law.  Yet,  as  the  min- 
utes went  b3^  seeming  hours,  he  began  to  grow  fear- 
ful lest  some  harm  should  befall  the  girl,  and  so  set 
out  in  quest  of  her. 

There,  on  the  top  deck,  that  she  might  have  no 
roof  above  her  head,  but  only  the  sky,  she  stood  lean- 
ing against  the  bulwark  and  gazing  down  into  the 
water  far  below.  This  bulwark,  although  much 
lower  and  narrower  than  those  of  the  Spanish  type, 
which  on  galleys  were  sometimes  three  or  four  feet 
thick,  walling  in  the  lofty  sterns  like  castle  ramparts, 
was,  as  may  be  imagined,  no  unstable  support  for 

55 


John  Vytal 

so  light  a  burden.  Nevertheless,  Vytal,  considering 
the  possibility  of  a  sudden  wave  causing  the  ship 
to  lurch  violently,  and  wanting  this  or  any  other 
excuse,  no  matter  how  preposterous,  to  render  justi- 
fiable his  intrusion  on  her  desired  solitude,  stepped 
to  the  girl's  side. 

She  turned  slowly  toward  him,  and,  stroking  back 
a  lock  of  hair  from  her  forehead,  looked  up  into  his 
face.  "  And  so  you  are  truly  here  in  flesh  and  fell,'' 
she  said,  with  a  certain  wonder,  yet  no  surprise,  as 
though  her  thoughts  had  not  been  interrupted,  but 
rather  realized,  by  the  actual  appearance  of  their  sub- 
ject. It  was  as  if  she  had  known,  with  no  need  of 
ordinary  information  to  give  her  knowledge.  And 
strangely  enough  her  lack  of  surprise  brought  Vy- 
tal no  astonishment,  but  only  a  slight  perplexity 
and  gladness.  He  had  dimly  surmised  that  she 
would  know,  but  could  not  explain  the  reason  of  her 
intuition.  And  yet,  while  wanting  words,  he  only 
gazed  at  her,  a  look  of  regret  crossed  his  face. 

"You  seem  not  overjoyed.  Mistress  Dare/' 

To  this  she  made  no  answer,  but  withdrew  her 
eyes,  and  he  saw  their  long  lashes  almost  touch  her 
cheeks  as  she  looked  down  once  more  into  the  water. 
"I  implore  your  pardon,"  he  said,  a  low  note  of  pain 
in  his  never-faltering  voice.  ''  But  I  had  not  deemed 
your  reverie  so  sacred.  'Twas  a  man's  rough  error," 
and  he  turned  away. 

"  Stay.  In  going  you  are  guilty  of  the  only  error. 
I  would  not  have  you  leave  me  with  the  word  '  ingrate ' 
on  your  lips.  Nay,  make  no  denial.  I  must,  in 
truth,  have  seemed  ungrateful."  She  fully  believed 
— and  perhaps  there  was  vanity  in  the  supposition 
— that  he  had  followed  her,  that  even  the  ocean's 
breadth  had  not  deterred  him,  and  the  belief  deprived 
her  somewhat  of  her  perfect  self-command.     She  was 

56 


A  Tale   of  the    Lost  Colony 

looking  up  at  him  now,  her  hazel  e3^es  wide  open,  help- 
less in  expression  and  for  the  moment  like  a  child's. 
''I  have  not  yet  said  'I  thank  you/''  He  made  a 
deprecatory  gesture.  "No/'  she  persisted,  with  a 
glance  more  free.  ''Oh,  why  are  brave  men  ever 
thus,  turning  away  when  we  would  offer  them  our 
feeble  words  of  gratitude,  while  they  who  merit  not 
a  smile  of  recompense  bow  low,  and  wait,  and  wait, 
for  unearned  thanks?  Yet  what  can  I  say?  That 
you  are  a  knight  worthy  of  the  name?  That  I  have 
never  seen  a  nobler  play  of  arms?  That  you  saved 
my — honor?  And  then,  after  all  this,  am  I  to  re- 
peat '  I  thank  you,  I  thank  you/  as  I  would  to  some 
fop  stooping  for  my  fan." 

"Faith,"  he  returned,  "'tis  the  duty  of  some  to 
pick  up  fans;  'tis  but  the  duty  of  others  to — " 

"Defend  a  fashionable  ruff,"  she  concluded,  smil- 
ing, "against  lawful  shears.  Yes,  I  suppose  you 
would  put  it  that  way.  'Twas  such  a  little  things 
so  trivial — a  rapier  against  scissors!  Oh,  perhaps 
I  am  wrong  " — her  tone  grew  bantering  to  cover  her 
recognition  of  a  certain  grim  power  in  the  man.  "  It 
may  be  you  boast  by  the  mere  belittlement  of  your 
action.  The  most  arrant  braggadocio  lies  often  in 
a  mock-modest  'It  was  naught,'  a  self  -  depreciative 
silence.  Thank  you,  then,  sir,  for  the  timely  pres- 
ervation of  my  ruff."  And  she  laughed,  as  the  rip- 
ples under  the  bow  were  laughing,  with  a  fairy  mu- 
sic. Yet  a  tone  of  sadness,  deep  as  the  sea,  under- 
lay the  feigned  amusement  in  her  voice. 

"The  ruff  was  a  flower's  calyx,"  he  said. 

"  Nay,  now,  that  ill-fits  you,  sir.  I  had  not  thought 
to  find  flattery  from  such  an  one."  She  raised  her 
eyebrows  with  unaccustomed  archness,  as  though 
by  look  to  maintain  her  usually  perfect  dignity, 
which  her  words^  whether  she  would  or  no,  seemed 

57 


John  Vytal 

bent  on  frittering  away.  ''Why,  'twas  far  better 
put  by  the  villain  who  insulted  me :  '  A  bud's  outer 
petals  fallen/  or  some  such  pretty  speech.  And 
you  but  steal  his — " 

Nay,  madam,  you  know  well  it  was — " 
Oh,  original,  then — 'tis  little  better.  So  readily 
conceived  a  metaphor  has  doubtless  been  made  a 
hundred  times  concerning  ruffs.  You  pay  the  best 
compliments  with  your  sword.  No,  no;  be  not  so 
crestfallen.  We  are  but  newly  met,  that's  all.  You 
do  not  understand — forgive  me.  Master — how  now, 
have  I  not  yet  learned  your  name?" 

"Tis  John  Vytal." 

"John  Vytal,"  she  repeated,  slowly.  "It  were 
easy  to  play  on  the  name  and  show  its  meaning,  but 
to  them  who've  seen  you  I  doubt  not  it  needs  no  in- 
terpretation." He  would  have  questioned  her  then, 
but  she  hastened  back  to  the  first  subject.  "One 
thing  piques  my  curiosity — the  manner  of  your  es- 
cape. Were  the  retainers  of  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  so 
speedy  to  bring  you  succor?" 

"  No,  I  saw  them  not.  Once  you  had  gone  I  stayed 
no  longer." 

"Stayed  no  longer?"  She  opened  her  large  eyes 
very  wide  in  surprise. 

"Nay." 

"  You  speak  as  though  you  could  have  left  at  will." 

"The  will  was  there,  madam." 

"But  the  way — the  way?"  she  demanded,  impa- 
tiently. 

"And  the  way,  too." 

"Your  brevity  is  badinage,"  she  declared,  with 
an  imperious  toss  of  her  head. 

"Your  badinage  cruelty,"  he  returned. 

"Oh,  you  are  not  all  silence  and  swordsmanship," 
she  laughed,  with  a  trace  of  the  persistent  raillery 

58 


A  Tale   of  the    Lost  Colony 

in  her  voice.  ''But  I  have  asked  you  concerning 
your  way  of  escape/' 

"From  the  cruelty?'' 

"No/'  The  word  came  impatiently,  as  though 
she  were  wholly  unaccustomed  to  resistance.  "I 
see  you  parry  in  more  ways  than  one."  And  her 
fingers  played  about  the  hood-clasp  beneath  her 
chin. 

"Less  hopefully  in  one  way  than  another.  Mis- 
tress Dare." 

At  this  her  manner,  curiously  changing,  became 
graver,  the  assumed  archness  and  petulance  for  the 
moment  leaving  her.  "You  speak  of  cruelty,"  she 
said,  in  a  very  low  voice,  again  turning  to  gaze 
down  at  the  sea,  "and  of  hope.  Sometimes,  Cap- 
tain Vytal,  they  are  synonymous;"  and  then,  be- 
fore he  could  make  rejoinder,  she  added,  quickly, 
"I  pray  you  tell  me  of  the  escape?" 

"  'Twas  through  a  w^indow  overlooking  the 
Thames,"  he  answered,  in  bewilderment.  "And  I 
swam  ashore." 

"Ah,  I  see.  I  thought  perhaps  you  had  followed 
us  through  the  porter's  lodge." 

"No;  the  way  was  blocked." 

"Tell  me,"  she  asked,  "was  it  your  plan,  our 
reaching  safety  as  we  did,  or  Master  Marlowe's?" 

"Neither  his  nor  mine." 

"Neither!     Whose,  then?" 

"  At  least,  in  a  way,  neither.  You  see,  I  remem- 
bered the  story  of  the  porter's  lodge.  In  1554  Wyatt 
gained  that  building  by  mounting  to  the  leads  of  an 
adjoining  house,  and  thus  made  his  w^ay  onto  the 
bridge.  Hence  I  knew  there  must  be  passageway 
to  the  Bankside." 

"And  you  remembered  even  while  your  sword 
demanded  so  much  attention?" 

59 


John  Vytal 


€t 


It  came  to  my  mind/' 

She  smiled  with  a  kind  of  wonder  in  her  eyes,  and 
then  a  hint  of  irony.  ''Of  course  the  plan  was  not 
yours — it  was  clearly  Wyatt's/' 

''Another  rebers/'  observed  Vytal,  for  the  first 
time  looking  off  across  the  water  with  a  trace  of  ab- 
straction in  his  face. 

''Rebel?     How  mean  you  rebel?'' 

"  Naught,  but  that  it  seems  my  fate  to  be  at  odds 
with  the  world." 

"For  instance,  to  rebel  against  bear-baiting," 
she  suggested,  glancing  at  him  sideways.  "I 
heard  of  that,  and  recognized  the  rebel  from  descrip- 
tion." 

"Readily,  madam,  I  doubt  not.  They  called  me 
a  long,  lean  wolf,  a  grizzled  terror,  with  the  usual 
flattery." 

"Yes,"  she  said,  nodding  her  hooded  head  and 
pursing  her  lips,  "they  did." 

"And  very  truly,"  he  averred. 

"Oh,  fie,  sir!     You  seek  a  contradictory  opinion." 

"You  know  I  do  not." 

"Nay,  then  perhaps  you  are  not  sure  of  it."  His 
simplicity  and  directness  vexed  her.  She  seemed 
strangely  distraught  by  nervousness,  and  her  man- 
ner was  unnatural. 

You  wound  me.  Mistress  Dare." 
Hast  so  much  vanity?"  she  queried. 
And  the  wound,"  he  went  on,  disregarding  her 
uncontrollable  banter,  "is  not  from  your  words,  but 
manner  more.     Somehow  the  mere  being  with  you 
brings  me  pain." 

"Our  interview  is  of  your  own  seeking,  Master 
Vytal." 

"I  had  not  thought,"  he  declared,  in  a  tone  almost 
angry,  "that  one  with  such  a  face,  such  a  voice, 

60 


it 


A  Tale   of  the   Lost  Colony 

could  be  so  unkind/'  and  once  more  he  started  as  if 
to  go. 

But  she  put  out  her  hand  with  a  detaining  gesture. 
Her  manner  again  grew  serious,  more  hke  the  deep, 
far-reaching,  silent  sea  than  its  near-by  surface, 
flurried  by  the  ship. 

"  Oh,  forgive  me  again !  It  seems  as  though  I 
must  ever  ask  forgiveness  from  you — from  you  to 
whom  I  owe  so  much.  Believe  me,  there  is  a  wom- 
an's heart  beneath  all  this — I  have  not  said  that  to 
any  man — 'tis  my  reward  to  you — and  the  woman's 
heart  knows  pity — that,  too,  is  a  reward — make 
what  you  can  of  it."  She  was  speaking  tremulously 
now.  "Only — remember — that  hope  is  cruel — that 
a  little  pain  may  avert  a  deeper  suffering — this  was 
my  intention — believe  me,  I  pray  thee  believe,  John 
Vytal — I  am  deeply  grateful  underneath  the  mask. 
Fate  brought  us  together  in  a  moment.  And  then 
you  followed  —  followed,  I  suppose — "  she  hesitat- 
ed, her  breast  heaving  and  tears  gathering  in  her 
eyes. 

''No,"  declared  Vytal,  anxious  in  his  bewilderment 
to  console  her  as  best  he  might,  and  looking  down 
at  her  for  the  first  time  as  at  a  child.  "  No,  I  knew 
not  you  were  coming.  I  believed  that  I  was  saying 
farewell." 

The  tears  lingered  on  her  lashes  without  falling. 
An  unreadable  expression  came  into  her  face,  wheth- 
er entirely  of  relief,  as  Vytal  thought,  or  with  a  slight 
trace  of  regret  and  shame,  deep-hidden,  she  herself 
could  not  have  told. 

"I  thought  you  had  found  out,"  she  almost  whis- 
pered at  last. 

"  Nay,  I  had  no  chance  to  seek  you.  I  was  pledged 
to  come.     Otherwise  I  would  have  sought  till — " 

"Stay,"  she  exclaimed,  imperatively,  "you  must 

6i 


John   Vytal 

not  speak  so!" — and  then,  in  lower  tones — ''but  if 
of  my  coming  you  had  no  knowledge,  is  it  not  yet 
more  the  w^ork  of  Fate?" 

"Or  of  God." 

"Nay,  God  is  good."  There  was  naught  in  her 
voice  now  save  sadness  blent  w^th  doubt.  "Per- 
haps I  misread  a  face — perhaps  a  name  is  but  a 
name,  and  stands  for  nothing — perhaps —  Oh,  sir, 
is  it  wrong  to  speak  only  in  riddles?  What  have 
we  said?  What  has  led  us  to  so  strange  a  conver- 
sation in  so  short  a  time?  Come,  let  us  talk  of  the 
voyage,  the  sea,  the  all-pervading  night.  The  night 
conceals  so  much,  being  merciful,  but  when  the  day 
comes  all  this  mercy  and  mystery  will  go — these 
ocean  whispers,  this  unutterable  darkness,  the  stars, 
the  moon,  even  the  scent  of  the  salt  will  be  understood. 
We  shall  say  'tis  healthful,  invigorating,  and  no 
more ;  but  to-night  it  is  the  subtle  odor  of  some  sea- 
forest  in  a  world  below,  or  of  flowers  in  a  coral  glade. 
To-morrow  the  ship  will  be  of  wood  and  iron,  w^hereas 
to-night — who  comprehends  this  long,  slow-moving 
shadow  and  those  silver,  moonlit  wings  above  that 
bear  it  forward  to  some  far  haven  of  dreams?  To- 
night we  are  spellbound;  in  the  morning,  if  the 
wind  still  sleeps,  w^e  shall  call  the  spell  a  calm."  She 
paused,  and,  leaning  back  against  the  bulwark,  still 
looked  up  into  the  mist  of  shrouds.  The  moonlight, 
ensilvering  each  listless  sail,  fell  full  upon  her  face, 
giving  the  unshed  tears  an  Orient  lustre,  and  the 
cheeks  a  pallor  of  unreality.  Under  the  edge  of  her 
hood  the  moonbeams  strove  to  make  their  way,  but 
could  not,  and  so  the  gentle  but  less  timid  breeze 
brought  down  a  strand  of  her  hair  to  turn  it  paler 
and  more  ethereal,  till  it,  too,  was  no  more  than  a 
moon-spun  thread.  Her  little  hands  were  clasped 
together  and  her  lips  just  parted,  as  though  she  were 

62 


A  Tale   of  the    Lost  Colony 

about  to  answer  some  voice  that  she  alone  could 
hear. 

''You  are  a  spirit/'  said  Vytal. 

And  then — then  she  laughed,  and  the  laugh,  al- 
though fraught  with  sadness,  transformed  her  in- 
stantly. She  became  a  child  with  it,  a  sweet,  lov- 
able, beautiful  child  —  all  reality,  innocence,  and 
health.  The  laughter  in  her  lips  converted  these 
fastnesses  of  expression  to  its  playground,  and,  romp- 
ing, chased  away  all  visionary  looks.  Her  cheeks, 
dimpling,  lost  their  pallor  in  a  blush.  One  hand 
smoothed  back  the  straying  lock,  the  other  drew^  her 
hood  yet  lower,  while  her  hazel  eyes  looking  up  from 
under  it  seemed  to  possess  the  magic  brown  of  a 
russet-bedded  brook  with  sunlight  playing  beneath 
its  surface — and  the  sunlight  was  this  wonderful 
transforming  laughter. 

''You  are  a  child,''  he  declared,  with  more  of  pas- 
sion in  his  voice  and  less  of  silent  wonder.  The  tone 
startled  her ;  the  grave  look  came  back  into  her  face, 
and  she  stepped  from  the  moonlight  into  the  shadow 
of  a  sail. 

"Nay,"  he  said,  with  an  incomprehensible  sad- 
ness in  his  voice.  "Now  you  are  a  woman.  The 
sky  and  the  sea  are  no  more  changeable." 

"A  woman,"  she  whispered,  compressing  her  lips 
and  turning  white,  as  though  nerving  herself  for  a 
strenuous  effort  of  will — "  a  woman,  and — and — but 
no,  wait,  sleep,  dream,  and  dreams  will  bring  you 
happiness — look  you,  the  sky  seems  clear — the  sea 
is  tranquil.     Yet  come!" 

With  a  hand  on  his  arm  she  drew  him  across  the 
deck  into  the  dense  shadow  of  the  rigging.  "See, 
it  is  but  a  step  from  light  to  darkness,  and  then — 
look — the  sky!" 

He  followed  the  direction  of  her  gaze^  and  saw 

63 


John  Vytal:  A  Tale  of  the  Lost  Colony 

again  the  long  ridge  of  cloud,  from  behind  which  the 
moon  had  risen.  The  hill  was  a  mountain  now, 
and  black  with  storm. 

"It  comes  all  too  quickly/'  she  said,  shivering, 
and  gave  him  her  hand.  It  was  very  cold.  Bend- 
ing low  he  kissed  the  fingers,  and  then,  holding  them 
in  his  firm  grasp,  looked  down  into  her  eyes  as  though 
to  read  their  meaning  if  he  could.  But  still  making 
no  answer  in  any  way,  she  trembled.  His  mute  be- 
wilderment and  uncomprehending  pain  were  becom- 
ing unendurable  to  her. 

''Oh,  mayhap  it  were  kinder,"  she  whispered, 
finally,  half  to  herself,  ''  and  yet  I  cannot  see  that 
deep  face  show  greater  pain.  Nay,  let  us  not  hasten 
the  storm  ourselves;  it  comes  whatever  we  do,  then 
perchance'' — she  was  forcing  a  show  of  cheerfulness 
into  her  manner — "  perchance,  after  all,  you  may  not 
mind  so  much.  Good-night,  oh,  good-night — "  and 
before  he  could  realize  it  her  hand  was  withdrawn 
from  his  and  her  hooded  figure  had  gone  away  into 
the  shadows. 


CHAPTER  III 

"Such  reasons  make  white  black. 
And  dark  night  day." 

— Marlowe,  in  Edward  the  Second. 

Morning  broke  fair,  and  seemingly  the  wind, 
which  had  freshened,  was  defending  its  two  charges 
by  driving  the  clouds  from  a  threatening  course. 
Throughout  the  day  Vytal  saw  no  more  of  Eleanor 
Dare.  In  the  evening  he  returned  to  the  Admiral 
with  a  heavy  heart  and  thoughts  intent  on  the  elu- 
cidation of  the  mystery,  until,  on  passing  a  w^indow 
of  the  room  of  state,  he  saw  beneath  a  hanging  lamp 
of  Italian  workmanship  a  face  that  so  startled  him 
as  to  command  his  whole  interest  and  attention.  It 
was  the  face  of  Sir  Walter  St.  Magil.  Vytal  looked 
again,  to  prove  his  first  glance  correct,  and  then  stood 
for  a  moment  in  doubt  before  entering.  But  the  next 
words  made  him,  against  his  will,  a  listener  by  the 
command  of  duty.  Stepping  to  a  vantage-point  in 
adequate  darkness,  from  which  he  could  survey  the 
whole  cabin  and  hear  the  sentences  of  his  late  an- 
tagonist, he  waited;  for  an  oath  from  Ferdinando, 
followed  quickly  by  a  cautioning  gesture  from  St. 
Magil,  betrayed  the  covert  importance  of  their  con- 
versation. 

"It  is  against  the  first  duty  of  a  sailing-master,'' 
declared  Simon,  frowning  and  toying  nervously  with 
the  upturned  corners  of  a  chart,  or  map,  that  lay  be- 
fore him  on  the  table;  "1  mislike  the  suggestion 
E  65 


John  Vytal 

strongly/'  At  this  St.  MagiFs  face,  scarred  upon  the 
left  cheek,  from  the  dagger  which  Vytal  had  flung 
at  him,  and  blighted  yet  more  evilly  by  the  indrawn 
eye,  grew  scornful  and  supercilious. 

''Oh,  an  you  are  so  faint-hearted,''  he  returned, 
''we  must  bide  our  time.  'Twill  matter  little  in  the 
end  to  us,  but  to  you,  now,"  and  he  leaned  forward 
across  the  table  impressively,  "it  will  matter  more. 
'Twere  well,  though,  to  discuss  the  thing  in  Span- 
ish; even  the  arras  hath  ears." 

"Matter  to  me.  Sir  Walter — how  so?"  queried  the 
master,  conforming  with  the  other's  suggestion  re- 
garding their  speech.  But  Vytal  fortunately  un- 
derstood the  foreign  tongue,  thanks  to  many  a  cam- 
paign against  the  Spaniards. 

St.  Magil  hesitated  and  looked  away  with  a  cal- 
culating air,  then,  smiling,  replied  lightly,  "Well, 
say  to  the  tune  of  a  thousand  crowns." 

Ferdinando's   small   eyes   glistened  like  a   rat's. 

On  your  word.  Sir  Walter?" 

On  my  word,  Simon,  a  thousand  crowns  if  the 
boat  arrives  not  in  Virginia."  There  was  emphasis 
on  the  condition. 

'"Tis  done,  then." 

"At  an  exorbitant  price,"  added  St.  Magil.  "But 
we  t)ay  it  willingly.  To-night,  then  " — his  voice  sank 
so  low  as  to  be  almost  inaudible  to  Vytal  at  the  open 
window — "to-night,  then,  we  leave  them  behind. 
The  fly-boat's  pilot,  another  of  my  beneficiaries,  will 
play  havoc  with  her  steerage  -  gear.  This  is  their 
chart,  which  I  procured.  The  plan  has  been  w^ell 
arranged.  'Tis  for  you  to  clap  on  sail  and  leave 
them." 

"Mary  save  me!"  exclaimed  Ferdinando,  shud- 
dering.    "I  fear  they  will  perish." 

"Nay,  good  Simon,  this  Bay  of  Portugal  holds 

66 


A  Tale   of  the    Lost   Colony 

many  ships,  some  of  which  will  doubtless  succor  the 
fly-boat." 

''Or,  being  Spaniards,  sink  her!'' 

''Yes,  there  is  that  chance,  I  allow.  I  have  told 
the  pilot,  in  case  of  attack,  to  surrender,  proclaim 
himself  my  servant,  and  so  save  the  rest  from 
death.'' 

"And  so,"  whispered  Ferdinando,  "deliver  them 
to  a  bondage  worse  than  death." 

St.  Magil  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "It  is  but  a 
choice  of  evils,"  he  avowed.  "  In  \arginia  they  would 
fare  yet  worse.  With  them  to  strengthen  it  the  col- 
ony would  resist  our  men  from  St.  Augustine,  where- 
as now  I  look  for  a  quick  surrender.  There  will  be 
no  fight." 

"  We  lead  our  countr^^men  into  a  trap.  Sir  Walter, 
God  forgive  us!" 

"Our  countrymen!"  ejaculated  St.  Alagil.  "I 
took  you  for  a  Spaniard,  Ferdinando." 

"  By  parentage  onlj^"  responded  the  master.  "  But 
you  are  an  English  knight." 

"Ay,  English,"  allowed  St.  Magil,  gnawing  his 
mustache  with  a  row  of  yellow  teeth,  "and  I  would 
save  the  English  from  their  worst  enemies.  I  mean 
not  Spaniards,  but  themselves."  He  rose  from  the 
table,  and,  stretching  his  arms  abroad,  yawned  aloud. 

"A  thousand  crowns,"  muttered  Ferdinando,  "or 
say  five  hundred,  the  other  half  being  laid  aside  for 
masses  for  nw  soul." 

St.  Magil  laughed  sleepily.  "It  might  pay,"  he 
drawled,  "  to  turn  priest,  if  all  else  failed,"  with  which 
he  leaned  forward  on  the  table,  being  in  truth  over- 
come by  fatigue,  and,  with  his  face  between  liis  out- 
stretched arms,  was  soon  breathing  heavily. 

Ferdinando  left  the  cabin. 

Vytal,  eluding  him,  entered  it.     The  room  was  a 

67 


John  Vytal 

long  one,  considering  the  size  of  the  ship.  Its  walls, 
hung  with  arras,  creaked  occasionally  as  the  vessel 
pitched  and  rolled,  but  the  creaking,  muffled  by  the 
heavy  hangings,  sounded  ghostly  and  added  to  the 
gloom  which  the  wavering  lamp  in  no  way  dispelled. 

Vytal  stood  over  St.  Magil,  his  lank,  stern  figure 
seeming  like  the  form  of  Death  in  Death's  own  room. 
His  dark,  olive  cheeks  were  pallid  and  drawn,  his 
hand  tensely  gripping  the  hilt  of  his  rapier,  the  so- 
called  ''bodkin.''  And  his  eyes,  cast  down  on  the 
sleeper,  held  disdain  mingled  with  their  fury. 

But  Vytal  only  gazed  and  gazed  at  the  treacher- 
ous soldier  beneath  him,  until  at  last,  withdrawing 
his  gaunt  hand  from  the  rapier-hilt,  he  held  it  with 
open  palm  above  the  other's  shoulder,  as  though,  by 
awakening  his  enemy,  to  throw  away  his  own  ad- 
vantage that  both  might  meet  on  even  terms.  But 
his  eye  fell  on  the  crude  chart  w^hich  Ferdinando 
had  been  examining.  Silently  he  folded  it  and  con- 
cealed it  inside  the  breast  of  his  doublet.  Then,  as 
if  with  an  actual  ph3^sical  effort,  he  turned  and  left 
the  apartment. 

The  fly-boat,  now  cast  off  from  the  Admiral,  slow- 
ly fell  astern,  until  her  light  seemed  no  more  than  a 
will-o'-the-wisp  and  she  a  shadow  piloted  thereby  in 
whimsical  manner.  The  sea  fretted  under  a  stiff- 
ening breeze,  and  not  a  star  shone.  The  Admiral, 
although  careening  drunkenly,  made  good  progress, 
for,  obedient  to  shouted  commands  of  Ferdinando,  her 
crew  were  flinging  aloft  an  unwonted  spread  of  sail. 

On  deck  V3^tal  met  Hugh  Rouse,  whom  he  ques- 
tioned tersely  concerning  the  whereabouts  of  Roger 
Prat. 

"  He  is  in  the  forecastle,  captain,  with  King  Lud, 
the  bear." 

''Fetch   him,    Hugh.     Quick!"     And    the   giant, 

68 


A  Tale   of  the    Lost  Colony 

with  darkening  brow,  hastened  forward.  In  a  mo- 
ment he  had  returned  with  his  companion. 

''Give  full  heed/'  commanded  Vytal,  glancing 
sharply  about  to  make  sure  he  was  unheard  by  others. 
"There  is  a  plot  afoot  to  desert  the  fly-boat.  That 
plot  at  all  hazards  must  not  be  disclosed.  We  should 
lose  by  immediate  accusp.tion,  as  we  know  not  who 
are  loyal.  Aly  plan  is  this :  I  shall  jump  into  the 
sea;  you  two  then  give  outcry  as  if  a  man  by  acci- 
dent had  fallen  overboard.  Ferdinando  will  of  ne- 
cessity heave  to.  In  the  mean  time,  as  though  dis- 
tracted, fire  a  piece  and  blow  on  trumpets,  as  the  sail 
ing  rule  demands.  Thus  the  fly- boat  will  have  time 
to  come  up  to  us,  and  then — but  leave  that  to  me.'' 
He  turned  to  one  and  the  other  to  make  certain  of 
their  comprehension,  and  found  it.  They  were  ac- 
customed, these  two  men,  to  their  captain's  succinct 
commands  in  moments  of  emergency.  But  Roger 
Prat  stepped  forward  with  an  expression  indicative 
of  disobedience.  ''Nay,  captain,"  he  said,  wath  a 
broad  grin,  "I  am  the  hogshead  and  will  float;  'tis 
better  so.  Under  your  favor,  I  go  myself.  The  out- 
cry being  thine,  will  have  more  effect."  And  before 
Vytal  could  hinder  him,  the  short,  grotesque  fellow, 
winking  and  wagging  his  head  at  Rouse,  flung  him- 
self, with  a  loud  cry,  into  the  sea. 

In  three  minutes  the  ship  was  in  an  uproar.  Men 
ran  hither  and  thither,  fore  and  aft,  in  a  confusion 
of  useless  endeavor.  The  women,  startled  by  the 
commotion,  gathered  for  the  most  part  amidships 
near  the  main-mast,  while  others,  among  whom  were 
the  first  to  learn  the  cause  of  the  excitement,  sought 
the  high,  castellated  stem,  from  which  they  might 
look  off  with  straining  eyes,  intent  on  catching  sight 
of  Roger  Prat,  who  had  already  gained  a  widespread 
popularity.     Hugh  Rouse,  at  a  word  from  Vytal, 

69 


John  Vytal 

went  quickly  to  the  master's  mate,  then  at  the  helm, 
and  informed  him  of  the  occurrence.  Without  hes- 
itation, the  mate  and  his  assistants  put  the  helm  hard 
down,  throwing  the  vessel  into  the  wind.  For  an 
instant  she  stood  poised,  a  breathless  creature,  her 
sails  flapping,  and  then,  minding  her  rudder  still  fur- 
ther, started  back  over  her  course.  In  the  mean 
time.  Rouse,  who  had  hurried  forward,  gained  the 
poop,  and,  waving  a  torch  he  had  procured  from 
one  of  the  sailors,  shouted  with  the  full  power  of  his 
lusty  lungs  to  the  crew  of  the  fly-boat. 

"Fool,''  cried  a  voice  behind  him, ''  there  is  no  need 
of  that  y  Turning,  he  saw  St.  Magil  peering  out 
across  the  water. 

But  the  two  ships  were  now  rapidly  approaching 
each  other.  Seeing  this.  Rouse  desisted  and  turned 
to  St.  Magil  with  an  agitated  air,  concealing  sus- 
picion fairly  well,  considering  his  honest,  open  coun- 
tenance and  utter  incapacity  for  strategy.  In  this 
the  darkness  aided  him.  ''I  know  not  what  to  do," 
he  declared.  ''  It  is  my  friend  who  hath  fallen  over- 
board.'' He  held  the  torch  high  for  an  instant,  so 
that  its  fitful  glare  fell  upon  St.  Magil's  face,  and 
then,  instinctively  realizing  that  it  might  betray  the 
look  of  hate  and  distrust  in  his  own  eyes,  he  flung 
it  far  out  into  the  water.  There  was  this  about  Hugh 
Rouse  which  is  rare  in  men  of  slow  wit :  he  recog- 
nized his  disadvantage.  "  I  thought.  Sir  Walter,  that 
you  were  in  London." 

"So  I  was,"  returned  the  sinister  knight,  "a  few 
days  ago,"  and,  suppressing  an  oath — for  the  fly- 
boat,  having  been  alarmed  by  a  flourish  of  trumpets, 
was  now  within  hailing  distance — he  hurried  away 
to  seek  Simon  Ferdinando. 

But  Vytal  had  forestalled  him.  Immediately  after 
Prat's  prompt  action,  he  himself  had  gone  quickly 

70 


A  Tale   of  the    Lost  Colony 

to  the  master.  ''The  unfortunate  man/'  he  said, 
"is  one  of  my  followers.  With  your  permission, 
Ferdinando,  I  go  to  his  rescue  myself.  The  least 
we  can  do  is  to  lower  the  ship's  boat.'' 

Simon,  evading  his  glance,  looked  hesitatingly 
at  the  choppy  sea.  ''  I  mislike  risking  several  lives/' 
he  muttered,  as  though  to  himself,  with  feigned  pru- 
dence, "for  one  man." 

"I  w^ill  go,  then,  alone,"  avowed  Vytal,  quietly, 
"or  with  one  other.  Here,  Rouse,"  and  he  turned 
to  his  lieutenant,  who  had  joined  him.  "We  go  to 
Roger's  assistance."  But  still  he  looked  at  Ferdi- 
nando,  as  if  deferring  to  the  master  by  awaiting  his 
assent.  Simon,  finding  no  plausible  excuse  for  fur- 
ther delay,  and  fearing  to  arouse  the  other's  sus- 
picions, made  a  pretence  of  ready  acquiescence 
amounting  almost  to  eagerness. 

As  Vytal  turned  away  he  found  himself  face  to 
face  with  Marlowe.    "  I  go  with  you,"  said  the  poet. 

Vytal  nodded.  "Quick,  then!"  And  in  another 
instant  they  had  started  out  in  the  small  boat  upon 
their  errand  of  rescue. 

The  sea,  running  higher  and  higher,  tossed  about 
the  stanch  little  craft  like  a  cockle  -  shell,  but  the 
brawny  arms  of  the  three  rowers,  holding  her  stem 
to  the  waves,  managed  to  urge  her  slowl}^  forward. 
The  fly-boat  now  lay  alongside  the  Admiral,  almost 
within  rope-throw^,  and  both  vessels  hung  as  close 
as  could  be  in  the  wind,  their  bowsprits  bobbing  tip- 
sily,  their  canvas  half  empty  and  rattling. 

The  rowers  strained  their  eyes  and  hallooed  loudly, 
but  there  was  no  sight  of  the  missing  man  nor  any 
sound  in  answer  save  the  flap,  flap  of  the  great 
square  sails,  the  rush  of  the  wind,  the  crash  of  the 
spray  from  broken  foam-crests,  and  shouts  from  the 
swaying  decks. 

71 


John  Vytal 

The  rowers,  now  under  the  Admiral's  stern,  were 
pointing  the  nose  of  their  sea-toy  toward  the  fly-boat. 
"  Roger  hath  perished/'  said  Hugh,  hoarsely.  ''  God 
save  his  brave  soul!'' 

And  then,  in  weird  contrast  to  the  grave  words, 
there  came  to  the  ears  of  the  three  men  a  laugh  and 
an  incoherent  call  out  of  the  near  darkness.  It  w^as 
as  though  the  blade  of  Hugh's  oar  had  spoken.  In 
amazement  the  men  ceased  rowing  and  gazed  toward 
the  black  stern,  from  whose  invisible  water-line  the 
sound  had  undoubtedly  come.  All  steerage  of  the 
cock-boat  being  momentarily  neglected,  she  swung 
round  until  a  wave,  catching  her  abeam,  with  all 
but  disastrous  results,  washed  her  yet  nearer  to  the 
grim  hull.  ''Have  a  care!"  cried  the  voice;  "hold 
off!"  And  the  rowers  saw  a  dark  thing  bobbing  up 
and  down  close  to  the  ship.  In  another  moment  a 
man,  grasping  the  end  of  a  long  rope  in  his  hand, 
was  clambering,  with  the  aid  of  his  comrades,  into 
the  small  boat.  ''Did  ye  not  see,"  he  said,  immedi- 
ately assisting  at  one  of  the  oars,  "  that  I  grabbed  a 
hawser  as  I  jumped?  'Twas  made  fast,  thank  the 
Lord,  somewhere  amidships,  and  here  have  I  been 
dangling  out  behind  as  comfortable  as  can  be — " 
but  his  words  belied  him,  for,  even  with  the  asser- 
tion on  his  lips,  his  last  remaining  strength  failed 
suddenly,  and  the  inimitable  Roger  Prat  fell  back 
senseless. 

"To  the  fly-boat — quick!"  said  Vytal. 

The  cockle-shell  was  now  but  a  dancing  shadow, 
only  a  little  darker  than  the  sea  to  those  who  looked 
down  on  it  from  the  AdiniraVs  stern  far  above.  Yet 
in  the  eyes  of  one  man,  at  least,  that  riotous  black 
spot  was  a  thing  by  all  means  to  be  avoided.  "  Simon, 
it  is  the  solution  of  our  problem.  That  man  you  say 
is  John  Vytal,  and,  I  add,  the  most  cursed  mischief- 

72 


A  Tale    of  the   Lost  Colony 

maker  under  heaven.  Had  I  known  they  were  com- 
ing, he  and  his  slavish  crew,  we  might  have  been 
driven  to  no  such  pass/'  The  speaker  lowered  his 
voice  and  went  on  as  he  had  begun,  in  the  Spanish 
language.     ''But  the  chance  is  ours — yours.'' 

"  How  mine?"  The  question  issued  with  a  shiver- 
ing sound  from  the  other's  teeth. 

"Let  me  see.  One  thousand  crowns,"  returned 
S*^.  Magil,  still  leaning  over  the  bulwark  to  gaze  down 
like  an  evil  buzzard  on  the  bobbing  shadow  beneath 
him,  ''and  another  thousand — and,  if  it  must  be, 
yet  another  thousand."  He  turned,  smiling,  to  note 
the  effect  of  his  offer.  "All  this  if  you  leave  that 
insignificant  cock-boat  behind  us,  and  it  comes  not 
safe  to  Virginia." 

"It  is  impossible." 

"Wherefore?" 

"  Captain  Vytal  is  one  of  the  governor's  assistants. 
The  desertion  will  be  reported,  and  I,  Sir  Walter, 
aUvSwerable  to  the  lords  of  her  IMajesty's  most  hon- 
orable privy  council." 

"Alost  honorable  idiots!"  exclaimed  the  other. 
"  'Tis  easily  explained.  They  are  lost — we  have 
waited — we  cannot  find  them — where  are  they?  I 
see  no  sign  whatever  of  the  boat,"  and,  smiling  yet 
more  blandh^  he  turned  his  back  to  the  bulwark. 
"It  is  as  simple  as  that — just  turn  3^our  back." 

"  Before  God,  I  will  not!"  and  Simon  started  away, 
as  if  he  would  end  the  matter  there  and  then. 

"You  find  no  difficulty  in  forsaking  the  flj'^-boat," 
sneered  St.  Alagil. 

"Nay,  for  that  at  least  can  live.  But  this  play- 
thing must  surely  perish  if  deserted  in  so  rough  a 


sea." 


"No,  Simon,  it  will  gain  the  fly-boat." 
Ferdinando  returned  to  the  bulwark  and  looked 

73 


John  Vytal :  ATale  ofthe  Lost  Colony 

down  once  more  at  the  object  of  their  discussion. 
He  could  see  it  batthng  now  against  great  odds,  for 
the  shadow  made  no  headway  in  an3^  direction  and 
both  ships  were  slowly  leaving  it  in  their  wake. 

''Keep  your  purse.  Til  not  play  the  assassin  for 
you  or  any  other  man/'  and  again  the  master  would 
have  left.  But  he  heard  a  quick  step  behind  him,  and 
turned  suddenly.  A  slender  gleam  crossed  his  sight, 
and  he  felt  himself  pressed  back  against  the  bulwark. 
The  menacing  glimmer  seemed  to  get  into  his  eyes 
and  into  his  soul,  bringing  terror  to  both. 

''For  two  thousand,  then,''  he  said,  hoarsely,  "'tis 
done." 

"Thank  you,  my  good  Simon.  Thank  you,  and 
all  this  for  turning  your  back." 

There  was  a  double  meaning  in  the  words,  and  Fer- 
dinando  shuddered  at  thought  of  it. 

"We  will  go  now  and  give  orders  to  the  mate," 
said  St.  Magil—' together." 


CHAPTER  IV 

"Whose  eyes  being  turned  to  steel 
Will  sooner  sparkle  fire 
Than  shed  a  tear," 

— Marlowe,  in  Edward  the  Second. 

Eleanor  Dare  stood  alone  near  the  bulwark 
of  the  fly-boat,  her  thoughts  shapeless,  until  at  last 
a  dark  object,  also  without  form,  rose  and  fell  on  the 
water  within  range  of  her  unseeing  vision.  Slow- 
ly her  consciousness  grew  more  acute,  and  the  thing 
became  real  to  her.  Slowly  it  took  shape  and  be- 
came a  boat,  a  ship's  cock-boat,  contending  with  all 
its  little  bravery  against  the  waves.  She  heard, 
with  an  increasing  heed  to  them,  the  shouts  of  men 
from  the  deck  of  the  Admiral,  and  noticed  for  the 
first  time  that  the  governor's  ship,  having  stood  back 
upon  her  course,  was  now  abreast  of  the  fly-boat.  But 
soon  her  eyes,  with  a  renewed  attention  to  the  real- 
ities of  her  surroundings,  saw  the  Admiral  stand 
away  again  to  the  westward.  She  perceived  with 
surprise  that,  considering  the  gale,  the  larger  vessel , 
carried  an  unwarrantable  spread  of  canvas;  and 
realized,  not  without  alarm,  that  the  fly-boat,  if  thus 
outsailed  for  many  hours,  must  soon  be  left  astern 
far  beyond  the  regulation  distance.  And  as  to  the 
small  boat:  w^as  its  present  plight  merely  the  un- 
fortunate result  of  an  attempt  to  bring  some  message 
from  one  ship  to  the  other,  or  was  it  the  outcome 
of  a  fell  design  on  the  part  of  Ferdinando?  This 
last  suspicion  in  Eleanor's  mind  was  not  without 

75 


John  Vytal 

foundation,  for  she  had  aheady  entertained  misgiv- 
ings. 

Suddenly  a  yet  graver  fear  came  to  her.  For  the 
fly-boat's  pilot,  who  at  first  had  luffed  his  vessel  up 
into  the  wind,  imitating  the  example  of  the  Admiral's 
master,  now  sent  her  plunging  ahead  again,  paying 
no  heed  to  the  rowers,  who  struggled  vainly  in  the 
fly-boat's  wake.  Realizing  this,  Eleanor,  at  last 
fully  aware  of  the  small  boat's  predicament,  and 
alive  to  the  demands  of  the  moment,  hurried  aft  to 
remonstrate  with  the  helmsman.  She  w^as  not  cer- 
tain that  the  pilot's  intentions  were  treacherous,  nor 
that  the  cock-boat  had  been  seen.  Furthermore, 
being  ignorant  of  the  rowers'  identities,  she  sup- 
posed them  to  be  but  mariners  of  the  Admiral's  crew. 
But  they  were  men  elevated  for  the  moment  to  a 
position  of  supreme  importance  by  mortal  danger,  the 
leveller  of  all  degrees. 

With  good  policy,  on  her  w^ay  aft,  Eleanor  gave 
the  alarm  to  all  she  passed,  and  thus  brought  many 
with  her  to  the  pilot.  The  latter,  a  burly  seaman, 
whose  unkempt  red  hair  and  beard  swathed  his  pock- 
marked face  like  a  flaming  rag,  showed  much  as- 
tonishment at  seeing  a  number  of  his  passengers, 
led  by  a  woman,  excitedly  running  toward  him,  as 
fast  as  might  be,  considering  the  lurch  and  reel  of 
the  clumsy  ship. 

"  There  is  a  small  boat  astern  of  us,"  said  Eleanor, 
arriving  first  at  the  helm.  ''  Ferdinando  must  have 
forgotten  her.     There  hath  been  some  mistake." 

The  pilot  turned,  with  a  grunt  of  incredulity,  and 
glanced  off  in  the  direction  of  her  outstretched  hand. 
''I  see  naught,"  he  returned,  gruffly.  '"Tis  an  il- 
lusion of  the  sight." 

But  at  that  instant  a  voice  came  after  them  over 
the  water  from  the  darkness  far  astern.     They  heard 

76 


A  Tale   of  the    Lost  Colony 

but  a  feeble  note,  an  inarticulate  sound,  yet  the  voice 
of  Hugh  Rouse,  stentorian  and  resonant,  had  flung 
out  the  incoherent  cry  from  his  great  lungs  in  full 
power,  to  beat  its  way  against  the  wind.  With  con- 
stantly failing  strength  it  overtook  the  ship  and  died 
a  mere  whisper  on  eager  ears.  But  there  could  be 
no  mistake;  a  score  of  men  had  heard.  For  an  in- 
stant the  pilot  hesitated  and  glanced  at  the  little 
company  furtively  under  his  fiery  beetle- brows.  Then, 
with  a  hoarse  command  to  his  crew,  he  shoved  the 
helm  hard  dow^n,  and  once  more  turned  the  fly-boat 
into  a  stupid,  tentative  thing,  hanging  in  the  wind, 
drowsily  expectant  and  poised  in  awkward  fashion, 
like  a  fat  woman  on  tiptoe  looking  for  her  child. 

And  the  child  went  to  her  slowly  with  faltering 
steps.  Tumbling  over  the  ridges  of  water  and  picking 
herself  up  again,  nothing  daunted,  the  cock-boat 
came  finally  into  view.  In  a  few  minutes  the  rowers 
were  on  the  ship's  deck.  Vytal,  whose  sinews  were 
of  steel,  and  Hugh  Rouse,  a  great  rock  of  hardihood, 
showed  small  fatigue,  but  Roger  Prat,  who  had  just 
recovered  consciousness,  leaned  heavily  against  the 
bulwark,  striving  to  force  a  jest  through  chattering 
teeth,  while  the  water  still  dripped  from  his  clothes. 

Marlowe  stood  apart,  seemingly  all  -  forgetful  of 
his  exertion,  his  dark  eyes  intent  on  the  face  of 
Eleanor  Dare. 

Many  torches,  now,  in  the  hands  of  inquisitive  voy- 
agers, were  throwing  lurid  streaks  of  flame  across  the 
gloom.  Their  light  fell  full  upon  Eleanor,  revealing 
to  the  poet  a  realization  of  his  dream.  In  all  the  rich 
colors  of  his  limitless  fancy  he  had  pictured  her  often 
to  himself  since  the  night  of  their  flight  from  London 
Bridge.  The  picture  now  was  corporate,  and  Fancy 
inadequate  before  the  Real.  The  many  proffers  of 
assistance,  the  come  and  go  of  hasty  figures,  the 

77 


John    Vytal 

general  commotion  and  curiosity  were  lost  to  Mar- 
lowe's heed. 

At  last,  when  the  by-standers  had  separated,  he 
approached  her,  and,  speaking  her  name,  bowed  low. 
As  though  awaking  from  a  deep  reverie,  she  turned, 
and  graduall^^  recognition  came  into  her  eyes. 

"  Ah,  Master  Marlowe,  it  is  you ;  I  had  not  thought 
to  see  you  again  so  soon.'' 

" How  so, Mistress  Dare;  did  I  not  tell  you  I  might 
come?" 

"  Yes ;  now  I  remember  you  hinted  that,  if  in  the 
morning  the  wind  blew  west,  you  would  follow  it. 
The  responsibility  of  decision  was  too  great  for  you." 

''Perhaps;  moreover,  there  is  much  wisdom,  me- 
thinks,  in  leaving  our  destiny  to  the  wind,  for  the 
human  heart  is  no  less  fickle  and  way^vard  in  its 
guidance  of  our  steps,  and  following  that,  we  blame 
ourselves,  yet  who  would  arraign  the  breeze  as  pur- 
poseless and  false?" 

She  made  no  answer  at  first,  but  looked  off  across 
the  stretch  of  water,  now  growing  wider  between  them 
and  the  Admiral.  "1  trust,"  she  said  at  length, 
half  to  herself,  "  that  we  shall  have  no  cause  to  com- 
plain against  the  breeze.  'Twas  but  last  night  I 
thought  a  storm  menaced  our  advance.  Ah,  well, 
'tis  a  hazardous  voyage  at  best.  I  wonder  that  you, 
who  were  not  forced  to  come,  should  court  so  many 
perils." 

"Not  forced,"  he  said,  lowering  his  voice;  ''what, 
then,  is  force?  Ay,  madam,  'tis  force  and  the  hazard 
bring  me  here.     The  very  peril  compels  me." 

He  soLight  to  hold  her  glance,  but  could  not,  for 
again  she  was  looking  off  to  the  larger  ship. 

"You  consider  the  risk  so  grave,  then?"  she 
queried,  with  a  troubled  air. 

"The  gravest,  madam,"  he  answered,  a  look  of 

78 


A  Tale   of  the    Lost  Colony 

reckless  pleasure  crossing  his  face ;  "  with  glittering 
danger  so  woven  through  the  warp  and  woof  of  future 
days  as  to  seduce  a  man's  best  wisdom  and  seem  a 
golden  fleece.  We  court  the  danger  for  the  dan- 
ger's sake/'  His  words  came  as  an  undertone  to 
her  thoughts,  disturbing,  but  not  breaking,  abstrac- 
tion, until  suddenly,  as  if  with  an  impulse,  he  ques- 
tioned her.  ''I  would  fain  ask  you.  Mistress  Dare, 
concerning  your  departure  that  night  from  South- 
wark,  and  your  friend  in  the  barge,  a  man — "  he 
broke  off,  for  he  had  put  the  question  with  no  need 
of  further  inquiry. 

"That  is  readily  answered,"  she  replied,  never- 
theless, with  hesitancy.  ''You  see,  I  durst  not  re- 
turn to  Lambeth  tlirough  the  borough,  and  thus  ex- 
pose us  both  again  to  danger,  although  I  knew  that 
my  father  would  entertain  misgivings  and  grave 
fears  for  my  safety.  When  you  know  him  better 
you  will  recognize  his  deep  solicitude  for  every  per- 
son's welfare ;  how  much  more,  then,  for  his  daugh- 
ter's?" 

''Know  him  better!"  exclaimed  Marlowe,  in  sur- 
prise.    "  But  I  have  never  seen  him. " 

"  Indeed,  you  must  have  met  him.  My  father  is 
the  governor  of  this  colony — Governor  John  White." 

"But — but  you/'  ejaculated  the  poet,  in  bewilder- 
ment, "are  Mistress  Dare." 

"Being  the  wife,"  she  declared,  with  an  almost 
imperceptible  tremor  in  her  voice,  "of  Master  Ana- 
nias Dare,  one  of  my  father's  twelve  assistants.  It 
was  he  who  came  in  the  barge  that  night  on  his  way 
to  join  us  at  Lambeth,  and,  seeing  me  in  such  sorry 
plight,  decided  to  retrace  his  way  with  me  to  London." 

"A  wifel"  and  then  Marlowe  said  a  strange  thing, 
as  though  wording  a  second  thought  that  rushed  to 
him  on  the  heels  of  his  first  shock.    "  It  will  kill  him. " 

79 


John   Vytal 

He  was  speaking  of  another  man  even  in  that  mo- 
ment— thinking  and  speaking  of  another  man.  For 
the  intensity  of  that  other,  the  naked  soul,  the  dom- 
inant will,  the  inexorable  fatality  were  compelling, 
by  sheer  force,  the  homage  of  his  immediate  circle. 
It  was  simply  the  irresistible  power  of  a  great  char- 
acter at  work.  And  there  is  no  human  influence  so 
near  omniscience. 

She  paid  no  heed  to  his  low  exclamation,  but,  with 
a  few  irrelevancies,  left  him. 

He  had  but  little  time  to  seek  the  meaning  of  her 
abrupt  departure,  for  at  this  moment  Vytal  joined 
him  and  tersely  revealed  the  facts  regarding  the  plot 
of  St.  Magil.  The  poet  showed  more  surprise  on 
hearing  of  St.  MagiFs  presence  than  on  having  his 
instinctive  suspicions  verified  concerning  Ferdinan- 
do's  treachery. 

"Dost  thou  know  the  extent  of  this  treason?'"  he 
asked. 

"  Nay,  therein  lies  the  rub.  The  pilot  is  doubtless 
far  from  clean-handed,  and,  for  aught  we  know,  sev- 
eral others  among  us,  in  greater  or  less  degree,  con- 
spire to  work  our  ruin.'' 

"Yes,"  observed  Marlowe,  thoughtfully,  "in  St. 
Magil's  words,  as  you  o'erheard  them,  I  seem  to  hear 
the  whisper  of  a  wide  conspiracy  in  which  even  the 
Spaniards  of  St.  Augustine  will  play  their  part.  But 
tell  me,  would  not  decisive  action  here  and  now  de- 
feat them  more  surely  than  cautious  measures?" 

"I  think  not,"  replied  the  soldier,  turning  in  the 
direction  of  approaching  footsteps.     "Who  comes?" 

"  'Tis  I,  captain,  a  wet  dog,  at  your  service." 

"  Get  you  below,  Roger,  for  warmth,  and  a  change 
of  garments." 

"  'Tis  impossible,  sir ;  such  as  I  find  adequate  at- 
tire most  difficult  to  borrow.     Hast  never  seen  me  in 

80 


A  Tale   of  the   Lost  Colony 

a  moderate  doublet?  The  sight,  they  say,  is  worthy 
of  a  stage  play.  Moreover,  the  only  warmth  of  in- 
terest now  lies  in  the  oven  of  Sheol,  wherein,  'tis  my 
ardent  hope.  Master  Pilot  will  soon  be  roasting  by 
your  command/' 

Vytal  smiled.  ''Justice  demands  patience,''  he 
said.  ''Do  you,  then,  seek  Hugh,  bidding  him  go 
among  the  mariners  with  eyes  and  ears  awake.  And 
likewise  make  investigation  for  yourself.  Find  an 
you  can  the  limits  of  the  plot,  map  out  its  course, 
survey  the  field.     Bring  proofs.     'Tis  better  so." 

"Justice!"  muttered  Roger  to  himself,  starting 
away — "'tis  always  justice!"  Joining  Rouse,  he 
thrust  his  hand  through  the  big  soldier's  arm.  "A 
stoup  of  liquor,  Hugh,  will  loose  my  tongue,  and  fit 
it  well  for  questions.  'Tis  to  be  all  questions  now, 
and  never  an  answer  from  our  lips.  Big  lout,  think 'st 
thou  it  is  in  thee  to  hint  a  query  and  induce  reply  with 
never  a  trace  of  eagerness?  Nay,  but  follow  me. 
King  Lud's  Lord  Chancellor — Heaven  preserve  his 
forsaken  Majesty — ay,  sirrah,  follow^  me,  and  praise 
good  fortune  for  the  chance.  Be  mute.  Keep  tongue 
between  teeth,  and  thy  great  paw  well  within  a  league 
of  sword-hilt."  And  so  the  garrulous  Prat  ran  on, 
after  his  usual  important  manner,  until  they  had 
gained  the  forecastle. 

In  the  mean  time  Vytal  and  IMarlowe,  near  the 
main-mast,  were  striving,  by  discussion  and  induc- 
tion, to  obtain  a  more  comprehensive  grasp  of  the 
situation.  The  soldier  had  long  suspected  St.  Magil 
of  treasonable  intrigues,  the  nature  of  which,  how- 
ever, was  undiscoverable.  In  the  Low  Country 
camps  for  the  last  three  years  there  had  been  rumors 
of  treachery,  with  which  Sir  Walter's  name  had  been 
vaguely  associated.  Some  had  openly  pronounced 
him  a  spy  in  the  pay  of  Philip  of  Spain,  while  others 
F  8i 


John  Vytal 

had  as  firmly  declared  him  loyal  to  Henry  and  Eliza- 
beth. 

''We  are  his  match  at  least  in  sword-play/'  ob- 
served Marlowe,  finally.  "  'Twas  proved  conclusive- 
ly upon  the  bridge/' 

''We  are  his  match/'  returned  Vytal,  with  a  quiet 
confidence,  "in  all  things/' 

"I  trust  we  may  prove  this,  too,"  said  the  poet, 
regarding  his  companion  with  marked  admiration. 

"We  shall" 

It  was  now  nearly  midnight,  and  the  wind  left  a 
long,  rolling  sea,  in  which  the  fly-boat  lay  wearily, 
like  a  landsman  in  a  hammock,  uncomfortably  asleep. 
The  decks  were  deserted  save  for  the  burly  figure  of 
the  pilot  at  the  helm,  the  two  shadows  near  the  main- 
mast, and  a  ghost-like  sailor  here  and  there  on  watch. 
The  Admiral's  dim  light  had  gone  down  over  the 
horizon.' 

"Desolation,"  muttered  Marlowe.  "All  desola- 
tion. It  seems  as  though  the  God — if  God  there 
be — were  sleeping." 

"  There  is  a  God,"  said  Vytal,  simply. 

The  poet  smiled  sceptically,  and  would  have  re- 
joined at  some  length,  but  a  cloaked  figure  came  to 
them  out  of  the  darkness.  It  was  Eleanor  Dare. 
Marlowe  started  back  as  though  struck  without 
warning,  and  turned  to  Vytal  with  a  jealous  look. 
But  the  glance  of  enmity  passed  as  quickly  as  it 
came,  leaving  only  deep  affection  and  sympathy  in 
the  poet's  face.  Instinctively  he  made  as  though  to 
withdraw,  and  they,  to  his  regret,  offered  no  remon- 
strance. "You  will  find  me,"  he  said,  "with  the 
steersman.  It  may  be  well  to  watch  him  closely." 
And  he  left  them. 

"Captain  Vytal,"  began  Eleanor,  "you  must  act 
with  all  speed.     Indeed,  I  know  not  but  that  even 

82 


A  Tale   of  the    Lost  Colony 

now  I  am  too  late/'  Despite  her  ominous  words, 
she  was  speaking  coldly,  with  a  calmness  ahiiost 
mechanical.  ''  We  are  in  the  hands  of  traitors  paid 
by  Spain/' 

"I  know  it  well.  Mistress  Dare/' 

"You  know  it?" 

"  Yes/'  and  he  told  her  very  briefly  the  facts  with- 
in his  knowledge, 

''It  is  worse  than  that.  St.  Alagil  withheld  the 
full  truth  from  Ferdinando.  There  is  a  conspiracy 
afoot  to  land  us  on  the  coast  of  Portugal.  Before 
morning  some  twenty  men  in  Sir  Walter's  pay  will 
come  upon  the  deck  and  overpower  the  mariners  now 
here.  I  tell  you,  in  order  that  you  may  summon  as 
many  soldiers  hither  from  below,  and  save  us." 

"I  thank  you,"  he  said,  ''but  it  cannot  be." 

"Cannot  be!" 

"Nay,  for  we  know  not  who  is  loyal.  My  men 
and  I  must  meet  the  knaves  alone." 

"Alone!  God  forgive  me!  It  is  the  second  time 
I  place  your  life  in  peril." 

"On  the  contrary,  the  second  time  you  make  it 
worth  the  living.  But  how  came  this  knowledge 
to  your  ears?" 

She  hesitated  only  for  an  instant,  and  then  an- 
swered him,  with  an  icy  chill  in  her  tone,  "From 
my  husband." 

"Your  husband!"  There  was  no  tremor  in  the 
voice,  but  only  a  harsh  finality,  like  the  sound  of 
a  sword  breaking.  And  for  a  moment,  in  which  a 
lifetime  seemed  to  drag  itself  ponderously  by,  there 
was  utter  silence. 

"Take  me  to  Master  Dare,"  said  Vytal,  at  last, 
mechanicalh^  "  We  shall  do  well  to  confer  together 
concerning  the  matter." 

She  looked  up  at  him  with  wonder  and  surprise. 

83 


John  Vytal:  A  Tale  of  the  Lost  Colony 

"  You  would  see  him?''  she  asked,  as  though  her  ears 
had  deceived  her;  then,  with  a  new  bitterness:  "I 
fear  you  will  gain  but  little  by  the  interview.  My 
husband  is'' — her  voice  sank  lower,  with  a  note  of 
deep  shame  in  it,  the  shame  of  a  great  pride  wounded 
— "is  not  himself."  Then,  turning,  she  led  the  way 
down  to  a  large  cabin  in  which  the  captain  and  the 
governor's  assistants  were  accustomed  to  hold  con- 
ference pertaining  to  the  colony  and  voyage.  "He 
is  there,"  and  she  left  Vytal  at  the  cabin  door. 


CHAPTER  V 

" .  .  .  hath  wronged  your  country  and  himself. 
And  we  must  seek  to  right  it  as  we  may." 

— Marlowe,  in  Edward  the  Second. 

Entering  immediately,  Vytal  found  the  room 
empty  save  for  one  man  who  sat  before  a  long  table 
in  a  peculiar  posture  and  apparently  half  asleep.  A 
silver  flagon  stood  before  him,  its  brim  covered  by 
two  almost  feminine  hands,  whose  fingers  w^ere  in- 
tertwined and  palms  held  downward,  as  though  to 
conceal  or  guard  the  contents  of  the  cup.  His  head 
was  bent  forward  until  one  cheek  rested  on  the  back 
of  his  clasped  hands,  while  the  other  show^ed  a  central 
flush  on  a  background  of  white,  delicate  skin.  The 
man's  eyes  were  not  closed,  but  maintained  their 
watch  on  the  door  with  an  evident  effort,  for  the  lids 
blinked  drowsily  as  though  soon  they  must  succumb 
to  sleep.  The  light  of  a  three-branched  candela- 
brum, flickering  across  the  table,  showed  a  face  nat- 
urally fair,  but  marred  by  dissipation.  The  hair, 
light  brown  and  of  fine  texture,  hung  down  over  a 
narrow  forehead,  and  half  concealed  a  well-formed 
ear.  The  eyes,  always  first  to  suffer  from  inebriety, 
showed  but  a  trace  of  their  lost  brilliancy  when  the 
effort  to  keep  awake  was  strongest.  There  w^as  an 
aspect  so  pitiable  in  the  man's  whole  attitude  that 
Vytal,  his  face  softening,  shrank  back  as  though 
to  proceed  no  further  with  his  interview.  But  over- 
coming the  first  shock  occasioned  by  so  weak  and 

85 


John    Vytal 

forlorn  a  personality,  the  soldier  went  forward,  with 
grim  determination.  ''  Is  this  Master  Ananias  Dare?'' 
he  demanded. 

"Yes,"  came  the  answer,  falteringly,  "Master 
Dare,  at  your  service,''  and  the  slim  fellow,  attempt- 
ing to  rise,  swayed  and  fell  back  again  into  his  chair. 
"Rough  sea,"  he  muttered.  "Great  waves — mad 
boat." 

Vytal  drew  a  chair  to  the  table,  and  moving  the 
candelabrum  to  one  side,  sat  down  opposite  the 
drinker.  "I  come  to  inquire  concerning  a  plot  of 
which  you  have  knowledge." 

The  effect  of  this  unexpected  statement  was  curious. 
"  Plot!"  exclaimed  Ananias — "  plot!"  and  he  laughed 
a  thick,  uncomfortable  laugh.  "Now  I  know  the 
boat  is  certainly  mad.  Who  said  'plot'?  Oh,  who 
said  'plot'?"  His  voice,  wailing,  sank  almost  to  a 
whisper.  "I  cannot  believe  it.  I  really  cannot  be- 
lieve such  extraor'nary  statements.  Have  a  cup  o' 
wine ;  'tis  wine  belies  our  fears.  I  thank  thee,  good 
wine  —  I  thank  thee  for  so  great  a  courage.  Oh, 
who  said  'plot'?"  and,  lurching  forward,  he  pushed 
a  great  silver  tankard  toward  Vytal. 

"  'Tis  wine,"  returned  the  soldier,  fixing  his  gaze 
on  the  pitiful  assistant,  as  though  to  force  the  words 
home  with  look  as  well  as  voice,  "'tis  wine  brings 
danger.  Another  cup  now,  and  mayhap  you  are 
fatally  undone. "  He  wished  to  play  upon  the  other's 
cowardice,  and  turn,  if  he  could,  one  weakness  into 
strength  to  withstand  another.  The  time  was  short 
in  which  to  elicit  the  desired  information,  and  the 
task  not  easy. 

"  Danger !  there's  no  danger  to  me ! "  declared  Ana- 
nias, unexpectedly.  "  Oh  nay ;  how  strange — danger 
— none  whatever !  'Tis  not  for  this  I  drink  so  deep ; 
'tis  my  wife — induces  the  condition!"     His  head  fell 

86 


A  Tale   of  the    Lost   Colony 

forward  again  to  his  hands,  that  now  covered  an 
empty  cup.  Quickly  Vytal  hid  the  half -full  tankard 
beneath  the  table. 

"  'Tis  she/'  said  Ananias,  again  looking  up  sleep- 
ily, "  my  cousin,  my  peculiar  wife.  Why  did  I  marry 
her — oh,  why?'' 

Vytal's  face  grew  tense,  the  veins  on  his  forehead 
big  like  thongs. 

''She  is  different,"  pursued  Dare — ''so  different  I 
'Twas  the  queen  did  it.  I  sued  so  long,  so  very 
long,  while  Mistress  Eleanor  White  would  have 
none  of  me.  And  then,  one  day,  coming  to  me  like 
a  child — yes,  like  a  child,"  he  repeated,  weeping  re- 
morsefully, "she  said:  'If  thou'lt  rest  content  with 
friendship  for  a  time,  perchance  in  the  coming  days 
ril  learn  to  love  thee,  cousin,  but  now  I  cannot.  My 
father  alone  is  in  my  heart.'  That  was  after  the 
queen  had  talked  with  her  in  private,  and  before  she 
knew  of  my  love  for  these  big  flagons — mad  flagons ! ' ' 
He  grasped  the  cup  between  his  hands  as  though  to 
caress  or  crush  it.  "  And  I  was  so  wild  of  love  and 
jealousy  that  I  said,  'Yes;  I  swear  to  be  no  more 
than  friend.'  "  He  was  retrospecting  as  if  to  himself, 
and  paying  no  heed  to  the  listener,  whose  struggle 
for  the  mastery  of  his  own  emotion  had  turned  him 
for  the  time  to  stone. 

"  I  was  so  wild  of  jealousy,  for  there  was  my  Lord 
of  Essex  courting  her —  Oh,  this  boat — this  boat — 
'tis,  in  troth,  mad — its  reel  gets  into  my  head —  Ah, 
why  did  she  marry  me?  'Twas  because  the  queen 
promised  that  her  father  should  come  to  Virginia  and 
be  governor — her  beloved  father — instead  of  going  to 
the  Tower  for  some  trivial  offence.  And  she  was  kind 
to  me,  yet  so  cold  that  I  durst  not  even  touch  her  hand 
— but  then  I  grew  more  brave  with  wine.  Her  little 
hand  was  mine  despite  remonstrance,  the  wine  im- 

87 


John  Vytal 

parting  courage  to  hold  it  fast.  No  bravery,  say  you, 
in  wine?  Ha,  you  know  not/'  But  Vytal  had  risen, 
and  the  sword-hilt  was  a  magnet  to  his  hand.  "  Nay, 
you  go  too  soon/'  said  Ananias,  waving  him  back. 
"  The  plot  I  come  to  is  of  deeper  import.  I've  been 
too  garrulous  —  always  so  exceeding  voluble,  they 
say,  with  wine."  Once  more,  with  a  strenuous  effort 
after  self-conmiand,  Vytal  turned  back  to  the  table, 
pallid  as  death. 

"  She's  different  now — oh,  sadly  different — I  think 
'tis  Master  i\Iarlowe,  the  poet,  turns  her  head.  I  saw 
him  with  her,  and  she  entranced.  I'm  no  more 
to  her  than  you.  And  she  is  most  miserable.  To- 
night she  came  and  said :  '  The  voyage  is  very  dan- 
gerous. Oh,  would  we'd  never  come!'  '  Yes,'  quoth 
I, '  'tis  even  more  dangerous  than  you  think.'  'Oh,' 
said  she,  with  a  scorn  that's  hers  alone,  'you  are 
drunk,'  but  I  assured  her  'No,'  and  hid  the  cup  like 
this  beneath  my  hands.  Oh,  why  do  I  care,  why  do 
I  care  when  she  sees  the  wine?"  The  maudlin  re- 
morse came  into  his  voice  again  and  into  his  watery 
eyes.  "  '  What  mean  you?'  she  asked, '  b}^  more  dan- 
gerous?' 'Oh,  the  pilot  will  run  us  into  Portugal,' 
said  I.  'How  comical!  And  there'll  be  twenty  men 
on  deck  before  the  dawn  to  do  it.  'Tis  most  ex- 
traor'nary!' " 

At  this  Vytal  started  again  to  his  feet.  "Wilt 
swear  it?"  he  demanded,  fiercely.  The  drunkard 
leaned  back  and  stared  at  him,  seeming  for  the  first 
time  to  strive  for  a  sober  moment. 

"Nay/' 

"How  do  you  know  it,  then?" 

The  vague  eyes  blinked  with  a  more  definite  con- 
sciousness than  heretofore.  "I  heard  them  plot- 
ting." 

"  And  will  not  inform  us  on  your  oath.     Then  you 

88 


A  Tale    of  the    Lost   Colony- 
jeopard  your  own  safety.  Master  Dare.     Silence  now 
is  culpable,  treasonable/' 

"Oh  no,  no — what  a  mad  boat — rolling  about  so 
— I,  treasonable;  how  strange!  Then  I'll  swear,  an 
you  will,  'twas  the  pilot." 

"You'll  swear?" 

"Most  certainly,  I'll  swear." 

"  Where  are  the  twenty  men?     Do  you  know  that?" 

"Nay,  how  should  I  know?" 

"Did  you  not  overhear  the  pilot  give  directions? 
Think  you  they  are  in  the  forecastle?" 

"No,  not  there — not  by  any  means  there." 

"In  the  hold,  then,  hiding?" 

"Ay,  that's  it.  In  the  hold.  Down  in  the  dark 
hold — oh,  'tis  most  uncomfortable  in  the  hold — what 
a  mad  boat — rocking  so — always  rocking.  'Sdein! 
Where's  the  tankard?"  Rising  unsteadily,  he  looked 
about  on  the  table  in  stupid  surprise,  then,  sinking 
back  again,  missed  his  chair  and  fell  heavily  to  the 
floor.  ''Ah,  'tis  here,  the  wine — such  brave  wine!" 
and,  crawling  forward  on  his  hands  and  knees,  he 
sat  down  half  under  the  table,  holding  the  tankard 
to  his  lips.     "Such  courageous  wine!" 

Vytal  went  to  the  cabin  door.  "Heaven  guard 
her,"  he  prayed,  and  hastened  to  the  stern.  Here 
he  found  the  pilot  and  Marlowe.  With  a  gesture, 
he  drew  the  poet  aside,  and  in  a  few  words  made 
known  the  truth. 

"'Tis  against  great  odds,"  observed  Marlowe,  his 
eyes  lighting  up,  "that  we  fight  again  together." 

"Nay,"  declared  Vytal,  "there  shall  be  no  fight. 
Wherefore  desecrate  a  rapier  with  so  niggardly  a 
foe?" 

Marlowe  smiled.  "The  bodkin  would  fain  stitch 
only  satin  doublets,"  he  remarked.  "How,  then, 
will  you  defeat  these  hirelings?" 

89 


John  Vytal 

''Thus/'  and  leading  the  way  to  the  forecastle, 
the  soldier  emitted  a  short,  low  whistle  in  one  note. 
Soon  Roger  Prat  stood  before  them. 

''He  comes  like  a  devil  from  a  stage-trap  1'' ob- 
served Marlowe,  in  astonishment. 

Roger  laughed  proudly  and  bowed  like  a  juggler 
after  the  performance  of  a  cunning  trick. 

"Tell  Hugh/'  said  V3^tal,  in  a  short  whisper,  "to 
overpower  the  pilot  w^hen  again  I  whistle  thus,  and 
with  a  stout  rope  to  make  fast  his  arms;  but  first 
procure  another  helmsman  you  can  trust.  For  your 
own  part,  go  to  the  hatches  above  the  hold.  If  the 
pilot  gives  outcry,  and  his  crew  strive  to  pass  you, 
w^arn  the  first  man  whose  head  appears,  and  if  he 
heed  not  the  warning,  run  him  through.  They  can 
come  but  singly.  'Tis  within  your  power  to  with- 
stand them  all.'' 

"  Of  a  verity,  captain,  well  within  it ;  but  the  work 
is  tame.     They  stand  no  chance." 

"  Mark  you,  no  bloodshed  if  you  can  help  it.  And 
tell  Hugh  the  same.  At  the  sound  of  the  whistle, 
then,  some  time  before  daj^break." 

"Thank  you/'  and  Roger  went  his  way. 
Wherefore  does  he  thank  you?"  asked  Marlowe. 
Oh,  'tis  ever  so ;  a  thousand  thanks  when  I  give 
him  work  like  this  to  do/'  And  for  a  moment  the 
eyes  of  both  followed  Prat,  whose  rotund  figure  could 
be  seen  beneath  the  ship's  lanthorn.  He  was  walk- 
ing on  tiptoe,  which  gave  him  a  grotesque  appear- 
ance, and  the  end  of  his  long  scabbard  was  just  visi- 
ble as  he  held  it  out  behind  him  to  prevent  its  chape 
from  dragging  on  the  deck.  "A  peculiar  fellow," 
remarked  the  poet,  to  whom  all  men  were  books  de- 
manding his  perusal. 

"  A  man !"  said  Vytal.  And  they  waited  for  many 
minutes  in  silence. 

90 


A  Tale   of  the   Lost  Colony 

''Let  us  make  sure/'  suggested  Cliristopher^  at 
last,  "  that  the  men  are  in  their  places/' 

Vytal  turned  to  him  with  a  look  of  resentment, 
or,  more  accurately,  an  expression  of  wounded  pride. 
''You  know  them  not/' 

"Yea,  well.     But  plans  miscarry/' 

"I  repeat,  you  know  not  the  men;"  with  w^hich,  as 
though  to  deride  the  other  then  and  there  with  proof 
of  his  absolute  reliance,  Vytal  whistled  the  short  note 
shriller  and  louder  than  before.  Even  as  it  died  away 
there  came  a  deep  oath  from  the  stern  and  a  sound 
as  of  metal  clanking  on  the  deck.  In  another  second 
there  was  a  pistol-shot,  then  a  desperate  silence.  "  Let 
us  hasten,"  cried  Marlowe,  "to  their  assistance  \" 

"Nay,  let  us  rather  go  and  question  the  prisoner/' 

This  expression  of  confidence  was  fully  repaid  by 
the  sight  that  met  their  eyes.  For  there  on  the  deck, 
near  the  helm,  flat  on  his  back,  lay  the  bulky  pilot, 
so  bound  with  a  rope  winding  from  head  to  foot  that 
he  could  not  move  so  much  as  a  finger  in  remon- 
strance. As  Vytal  and  Marlowe  arrived  on  the  scene, 
Hugh  Rouse,  smiling  broadly,  held  a  light  over  the 
prone  figure  as  though  to  exhibit  his  handiwork. 
"A  ceroon  of  rubbish,"  he  said.  "Shall  we  cast 
him  into  the  sea?" 

"  Nay,  let  him  lie  here. " 

Vytal  turned  to  the  pilot's  substitute  at  the  helm, 
who  had  come  thither  at  the  request  of  Roger  Prat. 
"  Loyal?"  he  queried,  taking  the  lanthorn  from  Rouse 
and  holding  it  high,  so  that  the  rays  fell  athwart 
the  new  steersman's  face. 

"Ay,  loyal;  the  fly-boat's  mate,  sir,  at  your  ser- 


Vice. 


"What  proof?" 

"None,  save  this,"  and  leaning  forward  he  whis- 
pered the  name  "Raleigh"  in  Vytal's  ear. 

91 


John  Vytal 


''Your  own  name?'' 

''Dyonis  Harvie/' 

''He  speaks  truth/'  exclaimed  Vytal,  in  an  aside 
to  Marlowe.  "  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  made  mention  of 
the  man."  Then  turning  to  the  mate  again:  "To 
Roanoke  we  go.  Here  is  a  copy  of  Ferdinando's 
chart.  You  are  master  now.  See  you  pilot  us  safe 
and  sound  to  the  good  port  we  started  for.  Heed  no 
contradictory  orders.  I  am  Captain  John  Vytal  an 
you  need  proof  of  my  authority." 

Harvie's  honest  face  lighted  up  on  hearing  this, 
his  sunburned  brow  clearing  with  relief.  "  Sir  Wal- 
ter Raleigh  bade  me  seek  you,  captain,  in  case  of 
need.     'Tis  well  you  come  thus  timely." 

Vytal  turned  back  to  the  prisoner.  "Have  you 
aught  ready  in  extenuation?" 

The  pilot's  eyes  opened  slowly  while  he  looked  up 
for  an  instant  at  his  interrogator  with  sullen  hate  in 
every  lineament  of  his  mottled  face.  Then  his  eyes, 
blinking  in  the  light,  closed  again,  and  his  lips 
tightened  to  lock  in  reply. 

Vytal  turned  away  indifferently.  "And  now  to 
Roger  at  the  hatches ;  but  do  you,  Hugh,  stay  here 
and  guard  the  pilot,"  whereupon  he  led  the  way 
toward  the  hold. 

"  'Tis  strange,"  observed  the  poet,  "  that  we  heard 
no  sound  from  Roger  Prat."  But  Vytal,  making 
no  reply,  went  forward,  without  so  much  as  quick- 
ening his  pace. 

Coming  to  the  hatches,  however,  they  found  no 
one,  only  a  deep  murmur  of  voices  greeting  them 
from  below. 

"Ah,"  said  Marlowe,  who  could  not  suppress  a 
small  show  of  triumph  on  finding  the  other's  sur- 
passing confidence  seemingly  misplaced,  "I  said 
Hwould  be  well  to  make  sure  your  orders  were  ful- 

92 


A  Tale   of  the   Lost  Colony 

filled."  And  then,  as  the  gravity  of  the  situation 
grew  more  apparent  to  him:  ''Forgive  me;  'tis  ill 
timed.     I  fear  the  good  fellow  has  come  to  harm.'' 

But  Vytal  only  laughed  a  short,  easy  laugh.  "  I 
repeat  once  more,  you  know  not  the  man.  Throw 
open  the  hatch.     On  guard!" 

With  only  the  dela^^  of  a  second  in  which  to  un- 
sheath  his  sword,  Marlowe  obej^ed;  and  the  dull 
murmur  of  voices  grew^  louder  as  it  rose  unimpeded 
to  the  tw^o  above.  But  no  one  appeared  in  the  hatch- 
way. 

"They  lie  in  wait  to  entrap  us,"  opined  the  poet, 
and  then,  with  a  hand  on  Vytal's  arm :  "  Stay,  I  pray 
you!  It  means  certain  death!"  For  the  soldier 
had  stepped  forward  as  though  to  descend. 

Vytal  smiled.  ''That  night  on  the  bridge  you 
counted  not  the  cost.  Your  impetuosity,  methought, 
was  gallant  as  could  be.     I  go  alone,  then." 

"Nay,  nay,  I  stand  beside  you.  Know  you  not 
that  Kyt  Marlowe  is  two  men — a  dreaming  idler  and 
a  firebrand  as  well?  Cast  the  firebrand  before  you, 
an  you  will.  'Twill  burn  a  path  for  3^ou,  I  warrant," 
and  with  that  the  poet,  now  all  impulse,  leaped 
toward  the  hatchway,  brandishing  his  sword.  But 
this  time  Vytal's  was  the  restraining  hand. 

"No;  I  but  tried  you.  We  are  none  of  us  to  be 
caught  in  a  stupid  snare,  if  snare  it  be."  And  bend- 
ing over  the  hold,  to  Marlowe's  astonishment,  he 
called  for  Roger  Prat.  Then,  to  the  poet's  still  great- 
er amazement,  Roger's  head  appeared  in  the  open- 
ing, and  a  fat  finger  beckoned  Vytal  still  closer  to 
the  hatch. 

"All's  well,  but  show  no  mistrust  of  them;"  and 
then  aloud,  that  the  men  below  might  hear  him,  "  Ay, 
Captain  Vytal,  'tis  Roger  and  many  others  at  your 
service,  eager  for  the  fray;"  whereat,  looking  back 

93 


John    Vytal 

down  the  ladder.  Prat  called  to  the  men  to  follow  him. 
In  a  moment  a  motley  company,  of  perhaps  twenty, 
were  standing  on  the  deck,  ranged  in  a  group  behind 
their  spokesman.  There  were  soldiers  here,  armed 
with  pikes  and  bearing  for  defence  leathern  targets 
on  their  arms.  There  were  mariners,  too,  with  dirks 
and  pistols. 

"We  are  ready,  you  see,''  observed  Roger,  with  a 
covert  wink.    ''  Ready  and  eager  to  defend  the  ship." 

"Brave  men  all,''  said  Vytal,  masking  his  con- 
tempt with  a  look  of  gratitude.  "  I  thank  you.  But 
it  is  too  late.  The  rank  treason  is  already  thwarted, 
the  pilot  a  captive,  to  whom  justice  shall  be  meted 
out  in  no  small  measure.  You  have  lost  the  chance 
to  fight,  but  your  desire,  believe  me,  shall  not  soon 
be  forgotten." 

There  was  a  double  meaning  in  the  last  words  that 
caused  many  an  eye  to  seek  the  deck  confusedly. 
"  'Twill  be  well,"  resumed  Vytal,  with  a  look  at  Prat, 
"  to  leave  your  arms  here  in  case  of  another  fell  at- 
tempt to  surprise  us.  Perchance  you  might  not  hear 
the  alarm,  and  so  your  weapons,  were  they  with  you, 
would  be  lost  to  us.  Here  we  can  give  them  to  the 
hands  of  those  who  hasten  first  to  the  defence.  I 
bid  you  good-night." 

One  by  one  the  men,  not  without  hesitation,  laid 
down  their  arms.  It  was  the  only  chance  they  had 
to  prove  their  good  faith,  and  Roger  Prat,  as  though 
to  vindicate  his  own  position,  unbuckled  his  great 
scabbard  with  much  ado  and  laid  it  down  beside  the 
rest.  Then  the  men  turned  upon  their  heels  and 
dispersed  sheepishly,  Roger,  to  maintain  his  role,  go- 
ing with  them  to  the  forecastle. 

"Now,"  observed  Vytal,  turning  to  Marlowe,  "  you 
know  my  men  at  last." 

"  But  I  do  not  understand — "  began  the  poet. 

94 


A  Tale   of  the    Lost   Colony 

''Nay,  not  the  details.  Nor  I.  He  will  explain 
later;  see,  he  returns  even  now  to  do  it/'  and  Roger 
Prat  stood  once  more  before  them.  He  was  holding 
his  sides  and  shaking  with  silent  laughter,  after  the 
repressing  of  which  he  told  an  extraordinary  tale. 

"  I  heard  the  whistle/'  he  said, ''  and  stood  on  guard. 
Master  Pilot,  being  bound,  I  now  suppose,  by  Hugh, 
could  give  no  outcry  save  one  of  much  profanity. 
But  then  a  pistol-shot  rang  out,  and  I  started  forward 
a  pace  with  some  alarm.  No  doubt  it  grazed  Hugh's 
elephantine  ear.  A  stimulus — a  mere  stimulus !  But 
as  I  started  forward — and  for  that  step,  captain,  3^ou 
should  put  me  in  irons,  I  do  assure  you — as  I  started 
forward  carelessly,  the  hatch  was  flung  open,  and, 
before  I  could  turn,  I  was  seized  from  behind.  I 
thought  Roger  Prat  was  then  no  longer  Roger  Prat, 
but  Jonah  ready  for  the  whale.  Yet  I  struggled, 
and  being,  as  you  know,  of  some  bulk  and  weight, 
succeeded  in  pushing  my  captor  backward  to  the 
hatch.  The  next  instant  one  of  us  tripped,  and  I 
found  myself  bounding  downward  along  the  ladder, 
at  the  bottom  of  which,  thank  Heaven,  I  lay  down 
comfortably  on  the  man  who  had  fallen  behind  me. 
For  him  'twas  a  less  desirable  descent."  And  again 
Prat  shook  convulsively  with  laughter,  his  elbows 
out  and  hands  pressed  close  against  his  sides. 
''And  then,"  he  resumed,  with  an  air  of  bravado,  "I 
overcame  the  score." 

"Overcame  the  score!"  exclaimed  Marlowe. 

"With  wits.  Master  Poet.  '  'Slid!'  cried  I.  '  Why 
treat  a  comrade  thus?  In  the  name  of  Sir  Walter, 
'tis  most  unreasonable.'  'Which  mean  ye?'  they 
cried.  ' There  are  two  Sir  Walters ! '  'Sir  Walter  St. 
Magil,  of  course,'  said  I.  '  Here  I  come  from  the  Ad- 
miral to  give  ye  aid,  and  find  myself  hurled  headlong 
to  the  nether  world.      The  pilot's  killed,  the  plan 

95 


John  Vytal 

defeated,  and  now  we  are  like  to  decorate  the  yard- 
arm.  There's  forty  men  concealed  on  the  orlop  deck, 
awaiting  us  unkindly/  At  this  'tw^as  all  I  could  do 
to  look  mournful  and  keep  from  laughing  outright, 
for  the  knaves  fell  back  terror-struck  and  babbled 
their  fears  to  one  another.  Then  I  hung  my  head 
as  if  in  thought.  'I  have  it!'  cried  1,  at  last;  'we'll 
play  the  part  of  brave  defenders.  There's  one  trusts 
me,  for  I  gained  his  confidence  at  St.  Magil's  sug- 
gestion. 'Tis  Captain  John  Vytal,  the  devil's  own.' 
(Oh,  forgive  me,  sir,  for  those  dastard  words.  Yet 
they  added  force  to  my  parley.)  'A  ready-witted 
fellow,'  I  heard  one  say,  and  '  'Tis  a  chance,'  remark- 
ed another  gull.  Thus  they  assented,  and  we  have 
twenty  brave  souls.  Captain  Vytal,  new  recruited. 
Hang  them,  I  say.  Hang  the  lot  at  sunrise,  except 
one,  and  him  you  cannot.  'Tis  the  one  I  landed  on  in 
my  descent.  His  neck  is  broke  too  soon  and  cheats 
the  gallows.  Forgive  me  for  that — oh,  forgive  me 
for  that.  Ha,  'twas  a  comical  proceeding."  And 
again  the  fit  of  merriment  seized  him,  exhausting- 
ly,  so  that  at  last,  for  verj^  mirth,  he  sat  down  on 
the  deck,  laughing  until  it  pained  him  and  the  tears 
rolled  down  his  rubicund  cheeks. 

The  laughter,  being  of  the  most  contagious,  irre- 
sistible kind,  spread  to  Marlowe.  ''Thy  mirth," 
said  the  poet,  "  is  like  to  an  intrusive  flea.  It  invades 
the  inmost  recesses  of  our  risibility,  and  tickles  us 
into  laughter." 

The  sun,  just  peering  over  the  horizon,  saw  an 
unusual  sight  across  the  w^ater.  First,  a  man  in  the 
stern  of  a  solitary  ship  bound  like  a  bale  of  cloth  and 
propped  against  the  bulwark  under  the  eye  of  a  giant 
who  yawned  sleepily,  and,  stretching  a  pair  of  great 
arms  abroad,  spoke  now  and  then  in  monosyllables 
to  a  robust  seaman  on  duty  at  the  helm ;  then^  a  cor- 

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A  Tale   of  the    Lost  Colony 

pulent  soldier,  shaking  like  an  earthquake,  and  sit- 
ting on  the  deck  amidships,  his  short  legs  wide  apart ; 
next,  a  face  of  sensitive  poetic  features  not  made  for 
humor,  but  now  submitting  to  it  as  though  under 
protest,  yet  very  heartily ;  and,  lastly,  the  tall,  stern 
figure  of  an  evident  leader,  who  stood  near  the  others, 
but  seemingly  aloof  in  thought,  being,  for  some  rea- 
son, little  moved  by  the  gale  of  mirth. 

The  dawning  light  of  the  next  day  showed  a  pict- 
ure widely  different  in  conception. 


CHAPTER  VI 

"Die  life,  fly  soul,  tongue  curse  thy  fill,  and  die  V 

—Marlowe,  in  The  Jew  of  Malta. 

The  trial  of  the  pilot  for  the  instigation  of  mutiny- 
was  conducted  in  the  fly-boat's  main  cabin  with  strict 
secrecy,  in  order  that  faint-hearted  ones  might  be 
spared  the  disheartening  anxiety  which  a  knowledge 
of  the  conspiracy  would  have  brought  to  them.  The 
ship's  commander,  Captain  Pomp  by  name,  who  had 
appeared  greatly  flurried  and  genuinely  amazed  on 
hearing  Vytal's  story,  presided  at  the  inquiry.  Be- 
side him  at  the  long  table  sat  Vytal  on  the  one 
hand  and  Ananias  Dare,  now  sober  but  forlorn,  on 
the  other. 

The  pilot,  brought  in  by  Hugh  Rouse,  came  stol- 
idly, without  a  struggle,  and  during  the  trial  faced 
his  judges  with  defiance,  turning  now  and  then  an 
expectant  look  on  Ananias  Dare.  For,  preceding 
this  investigation,  the  assistant  had  gone  to  the  deck 
at  sunrise  and  held  a  conversation  in  whispers  with 
the  guilty  man,  telling  Hugh,  who  would  have  ques- 
tioned his  authority,  that  he  but  sought  to  elicit  fur- 
ther information  from  the  captive.  What  he  had 
actually  said  was  this :  "  An  you  betray  me,  we're 
both  lost.  Make  no  accusation  at  the  trial.  Even 
though  I  testify  against  you,  I  will  save  you  in  the 
end." 

But  the  pilot's  eyes  gazed  at  him  with  little  trust- 
fulness.    "'You  swear  it?" 

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"I  swear  it." 

''So  be  it,  then.  But  at  the  last  an  you  fail  me. 
Master  Sot,  look  to  your  own  salvation. '^ 

The  trial  proceeded  in  a  perfunctory  manner,  and 
w^ould  have  been  but  a  routine  affair  save  for  the 
increasing  nervousness  of  Ananias,  who  concealed 
the  cause  by  holding  both  hands  to  his  head  as  though 
only  the  night's  intemperance  had  unstrung  him; 
and  by  the  sudden  appearance  of  Roger  Prat,  who, 
with  the  captain's  permission,  held  a  whispered  con- 
ference wdth  Vytal.  "I  pray  you,  captain,  make 
no  charge  against  the  others.  I  have  charmed  them 
with  a  flute  and  tabor.  They  are  hot  against  the 
pilot,  being  but  hirelings,  and,  like  sheep,  easily  led. 
We  can  count  our  force  the  richer  by  a  score.  '  I  have 
saved  your  necks,'  said  I, '  and  have  talked  with  Cap- 
tain Vytal,  An  we  oppose  him  we  surely  dangle 
from  the  yard-arm.  Welladay,  welladay,  I  know 
what  I  know,'  and  I  sang  them  a  song,  then  played 
at  dice,  and  lost  three  angels  a-purpose,  then  drank 
and  warmed  their  chicken  hearts.  In  another  week 
they  will  be  ready  to  die  for  us,"  and,  making  a  gri- 
mace at  the  sullen  pilot,  as  who  should  say, ''  Be  more 
cheerful,  sir,"  Roger  swaggered  from  the  cabin. 

On  the  testimony  of  Vytal,  who  told  of  St.  Magil's 
conversation  with  Ferdinando  concerning  his  bribe 
to  the  pilot,  and  on  the  oath  of  Ananias  Dare,  who 
testified  to  having  heard  the  defendant  plotting  with 
St.  Magil,  the  culprit  was  speedily  condemned.  The 
pale  face  of  Dare,  the  faltering  voice,  the  nervous 
effort  with  which  he  forced  himself  to  stand  erect  while 
bearing  witness,  were  readily  set  down  to  his  bibu- 
lous tendencies,  already  well  known  to  the  fly-boat's 
captain. 

In  a  grandiose  manner  Captain  Pomp  arose  and 
drew  himself  up  to  his  full  height. 

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John  Vytal 

"Incarcerate  the  prisoner/'  he  said  to  Rouse,  "in 
the  hold.  At  midnight  I  shall  send  for  him.  Our 
sentence  is  that  he  shall  be  hanged  at  the  yard-arm 
until  dead.''  Whereupon,  with  an  important  air, 
not  devoid  of  true  dignity,  he  bowed  to  Vytal. 

"  It  is  well,"  said  the  soldier.  And  the  three  judges 
filed  slowly  from  the  room. 

At  the  hour  of  midnight,  when  the  voyagers  were 
sleeping  in  their  cabins,  a  sailor  appeared  in  the 
hatchway  of  the  hold,  and  soon  the  pilot  stood  be- 
neath the  main-mast,  guarded  by  two  dusky  figures 
with  drawn  swords.  A  third  approached  him  grave- 
ly. It  was  the  Oxford  preacher,  offering  consolation. 
But  his  offices  were  undesired.  The  pilot  greeted 
him  with  a  low  curse,  then  laughed  scornfully. 

Vytal,  who  had  come  hither,  realized  the  stubborn 
nature  of  the  condemned  man,  and  drew  the  pastor 
aside. 

The  moon,  now  full,  had  risen  high,  eclipsing  with 
her  brilliancy  a  host  of  stars.  The  sea  lay  glassy, 
a  pool  of  shining  mercury,  its  currents  gliding  on  in 
silence,  faster  than  the  ship  herself.  The  stillness 
was  profound,  broken  only  by  the  far-off  cry  of  an 
unseen  gull. 

The  night  was  a  night  for  serenades  of  love,  for 
lutes,  for  ardent  w^hispers,  for  anything  but  work 
like  this. 

The  noose  was  thrown  over  the  pilot's  head  care- 
lessly, as  though  the  sailor  were  casting  a  quoit  upon 
a  peg.  The  captive  opened  his  lips  as  though  to 
speak,  but  the  rope  was  tight-drawn,  and  the  effort 
ended  in  a  gulp,  vainly.  Suddenly  there  was  a  gut- 
tural, inarticulate  cry,  a  choking  sound,  and  a  bulky 
form  went  up  half-way  to  the  yard-arm.  In  that  in- 
stant, hurrying,  uncertain  footsteps  scraped  along  the 
deck,  and  Ananias  Dare  reeled  into  the  silent  circle. 

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A  Tale  of  the  Lost  Colony- 
He  gesticulated  and  moved  his  arms,  striving  to  point 
steadily  at  the  swaying  figure  in  the  moonhght.  But 
he  uttered  only  a  gibberish  of  broken,  unmeaning 
syllables,  and  then,  lurching  to  the  bulwark,  went 
deathly  sick  in  unrestrainable  nausea. 

The  figure  above,  still  rocking  slightly  from  the 
upward  swing,  held  out  a  thick  forefinger  and  point- 
ed to  the  new-comer,  while  a  smile,  ghastly  in  the 
moonshine,  and  triumphant  even  in  the  last  agony, 
crossed  its  bestial  face. 

Vytal  turned  and  looked  at  Ananias,  who  was  now 
but  a  mumbling,  terror-stricken  heap  upon  the  deck. 
Vytal  had  looked  at  the  man  before,  but  now  for  the 
first  time  seemed  to  gaze  into  him. 

''  Ugh ! ' '  muttered  Roger  Prat,  shuddering.  ''  Good- 
man Thong  did  his  work  well,  but  the  pilot  has  done 
his  duty  even  better.'' 

The  sun,  several  hours  later,  peering  through  the 
grayness,  saw  a  heavy  thing,  limp  and  motionless, 
depending  from  the  yard-arm  of  a  lonely  ship.  It 
was  a  man  of  revolting  countenance,  black  from 
strangulation,  and  pitted  with  the  marks  of  a  disease. 
Over  the  brow  a  shock  of  coarse  red  hair  hung  in 
strands  like  streaks  of  fire,  and  from  the  chin  a  ruddy 
beard  flared  across  the  chest.  On  one  of  the  broad 
shoulders  sat  a  great  white  gull,  its  beak  buried  in 
the  flame. 

But  soon  a  sailor  appeared  on  deck,  whistling  cheer- 
ily in  the  morning  watch.  He  cut  the  thing  down, 
and,  grumbling  over  its  weight}^  bulk,  cast  it  head- 
long into  the  sea. 


CHAPTER  Vn 

•What  shall  I  call  thee?   brother?" 

—Marlowe,  in  Tamburlaine. 

The  voyage  of  the  fly-boat  proceeded  thencefor- 
ward more  uneventfully.  The  men  who  had  been 
planning  insubordination,  now  that  their  ringleader 
had  been  so  summarily  disposed  of,  changed  their 
front  and  avowed  themselves  genuinely  the  followers 
of  Vytal  and  the  captain.  For  this  transition  Roger 
Prat,  winning  them  with  his  humor  and  good-fellow- 
ship, was  largely  responsible,  and  after  his  own  hum- 
bly boastful  manner  took  no  care  to  conceal  the  fact 
from  Rouse,  whom  he  loved  in  a  railing,  mocking 
fashion. 

Yytal  and  Marlowe  were  much  together,  the  dull 
days  affording  them  the  chance  for  many  conversa- 
tions, by  the  aid  of  which  their  intimacy  grew  and 
deepened  into  a  strong  friendship.  There  was  that 
in  the  poet  which  appealed  to  Vytal — the  facilit^^  of 
expression,  the  fervor  and  the  impetuositj^  all  of 
w^hich  his  own  nature  had  lost  in  the  grim  realities 
of  war  and  privation.  Also,  there  w^as  sometimes  a 
profundity  in  Marlowe's  thought  which  touched  his 
silent  depths. 

Neither  of  the  two  saw  Eleanor  Dare  again  while 
on  the  voyage,  save  for  an  occasional  glimpse  of  her, 
when,  with  her  maid-servant,  who  was  the  wdfe  of 
Dyonis  Harvie,  she  came  upon  the  deck  for  a  breath 
of  air. 

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John  Vytal:  A  Tale  oftheLostColony 

Ananias  approached  the  two  men  now  and  then 
with  whispered  protestations  of  his  innocence,  that 
grew  more  calm  and  earnest  in  his  sober  moments. 
Finally,  however,  he  vaguely  confessed  a  slight  com- 
plicity, to  Vytal  only,  and  followed  the  acknowledg- 
ment with  a  convincing  assurance  that  at  heart  he 
had  ever  been  loyal  to  his  father-in-law.  Governor 
White,  and  to  Sir  Walter  Raleigh.  Vytal,  hiding 
his  contempt,  received  this  assertion  with  a  promise 
to  leave  the  matter  as  it  stood  so  long  as  there  were 
no  signs  of  further  culpability,  and  gave  the  assist- 
ant his  hand  with  a  strong  effort.  He  then  instruct- 
ed his  men  to  preserve  a  like  secrecy. 

For  many  weeks  the  ship  pursued  her  solitary 
course  without  once  sighting  the  Admiral.  It  was 
feared  by  many  that  Ferdinando's  vessel  had  met 
some  misfortune,  and  foul  play  was  suggested  by 
but  a  few  of  the  most  suspicious  voyagers. 

Only  one  incident  in  all  these  weeks  seems  worthy 
of  record. 

Vytal  was  standing  alone  at  mid-day,  down  on  the 
orlop  deck,  examining  the  ship's  cables  and  spare 
rigging,  when  a  light  footstep,  almost  inaudible, 
approached  him  from  behind.  Turning,  he  saw  the 
Indian,  Manteo,  who,  it  will  be  remembered,  was 
returning  to  Virginia  after  a  stay  of  several  years 
in  England.  He  held  a  finger  to  his  lips  and  looked 
about  him  cautiously.  "We  are  betrayed,''  he  said, 
in  a  low  voice,  "by  the  son  of  a  w^arlike  country. 
Ferdinando  leaves  his  children  to  perish.  The  great 
ship  seeks  us  not,  but  would  make  her  way  to  my 
land  alone." 

Vytal  scrutinized  the  impassive  face  for  the  first 
time  with  a  deep  interest.  He  had  seen  the  Indian's 
tall  figure,  now  and  again,  standing  silently  aloof  in 
the  bow,  his  dark  eyes  always  gazing  off  to  the  west- 

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John  Vytal 

ward.  But  until  now  he  had  not  seen  those  eyes 
alert  and  troubled^  the  supple  form  prescient  with 
meaning. 

What  brings  you  this  suspicion,  Manteo?" 

I  know  it  as  birds  know  that  winter  comes,  as 
vultures  that  a  warrior  is  dead.'' 

There  was  a  marked  similarity  in  the  bearing  of 
the  two  men.  They  were  both  tall,  dignified,  and 
slow  to  speak,  both  evidently  perceptive,  strong,  and 
masterful,  both  almost  childlike  in  their  direct  sim- 
plicity. Perhaps  each  realized  the  likeness,  for  into 
the  eyes  of  both  there  came  a  look  of  understanding 
that  gave  proixiise  of  a  bond  between  them  stronger 
than  the  stout  cables  the  one  had  been  examining, 
stronger  even  than  the  other's  ties  of  blood. 

"My  brother,"  said  Manteo,  at  length,  ''you,  too, 
know  the  truth,  but  in  a  different  way.  I  came  to 
thy  country  as  Master  Barlow's  interpreter,  many 
moons  ago.  I  return  to  my  people,  but  I  have  learned 
among  thine  to  interpret  more  than  words.  Thus, 
and  by  my  own  heart,  I  know  that  we  are  left  be- 
hind.    I  have  spoken." 

You  have  spoken  no  lie." 

I  am  Manteo,  and  lie  not." 

My  brother,"  rejoined  Vytal, ''listen."  And  he 
told  the  chief  the  tale  succinctly,  omitting  only  the 
complicity  of  Ananias  Dare.  "An  you  learn  more," 
he  said,  in  conclusion,  "  you  will  tell  me,  I  trust,  and 
none  other." 

"  Only  to  thee  have  I  spoken,  or  shall  speak.  For 
thou  art  a  chief,  as  I  am,  among  men." 

There  remains  no  more  to  be  told  concerning  life 
on  the  fly-boat.  As  to  the  voyage  of  the  Admral,  it 
is  recorded  on  accessible  pages  of  history.  An  ex- 
cerpt from  these  may  not  be  inadmissible  as  a  rec- 
ord of  bare  fact.     In  the  journal  of  John  White,  the 

104 


(I 
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A   Tale    of  the    Lost    Colony- 
colony's  governor,  we  find  the  following  true  descrip- 
tion of  the  voyage : 

MAY. 

The  sixteenth,  Simon  Ferdinando,  Master  of  our  Admit  al, 
lewdly  forsook  our  fly-boat,  leaving  her  distressed  in  the  bay 
of  Portugal. 

JUNE. 

The  nineteenth  we  fell  with  Dominica,  and  the  same  evening 
we  sailed  between  it  and  Guadaloupe. 

4i  *****  4: 

The  twenty-eighth  we  weighed  anchor  at  Cottea  and  presently 
came  to  St.  John's  in  Mosquito's  Bay,  where  we  spent  three 
days  unprofitable  in  taking  in  fresh  water,  spending  in  the 
mean  time  more  beer  than  the  quantity  of  water  came  unto. 

JULY. 
*  *****  « 

About  the  sixteenth  of  July  we  fell  with  the  main  of  Virginia, 
which  Simon  Ferdinando  took  to  be  the  Island  of  Croatan, 
where  we  came  to  anchor  and  rode  there  two  or  three  ,days : 
but  finding  himself  deceived,  he  weighed,  and  bore  along  the 
coast. 

The  two-and-twentieth  of  July  we  arrived  safe  at  Hatar- 

3.Sx^.    •    •    • 

The  twenty -fifth  our  fly-boat  and  the  rest  of  our  planters 
arrived  all  safe  at  Hatarask,  to  the  great  joy  and  comfort  of 
the  whole  company  :  but  the  Master  of  our  Admiral — Ferdinando 
— grieved  greatly  at  their  safe-coming :  for  he  purposely  left 
them  in  the  bay  of  Portugal,  and  stole  away  from  them  in  the 
night,  hoping  that  the  Master  thereof  .  ,  ,  would  hardly  find 
the  place,  or  else  being  left  in  so  dangerous  a  place  as  that 
was,  by  means  of  so  many  men-of-war,  as  at  that  time  were 
abroad,  they  should  surely  be  taken  or  slain,  but  God  disap- 
pointed his  wicked  pretences. 

Here  the  account  of  the  days  at  sea  ends.  Thus 
the  fly-boat,  thanks  to  the  watchfulness  and  care  of 
Dyonis  Harvie,  came  at  last  to  her  haven. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

"Triumph,  my  mates,   our  travels  are  at  end." 

— Marlowe,  in  Dido,  Queen  of  Carthage. 

The  landing  and  unlading  of  the  fly-boat  was 
a  task  requiring  much  exertion.  But  now  that  the 
dangers  of  the  ocean  were  past,  every  man,  woman, 
and  child  of  the  little  colony  lent  aid  with  a  hearty 
will.  They  were  in  high  spirits.  The  mid-day  sun 
shone  down  in  summer  warmth,  the  skies  were  blue 
and  cloudless.  The  island  of  Roanoke,  emerald 
green  in  all  its  summer  verdure,  seemed  a  veritable 
land  of  promise.  A  number  of  the  most  youthful 
colonists  ran  along  the  shore  to  prove  their  freedom 
from  the  confines  of  the  deck — ran,  calling  to  one 
another,  and  sang  for  sheer  happiness.  Others, 
more  devout,  gathered  about  the  preacher,  who  of- 
fered a  prayer  of  thanksgiving.  Some,  with  whom 
labor  was  at  all  times  paramount,  went  busily  to  and 
fro  in  the  small  boats  and  the  pinnace,  which  had 
again  been  manned,  conveying  the  cargo  from  ship 
to  shore.  The  main  body,  who  had  arrived  earlier 
on  the  Admiral,  came  down  with  tears  of  joy  in  wel- 
come, and  a  babble  of  questions  concerning  the  fly- 
boat's  voyage.  The  scene  was  varied.  Here  stood 
Hugh  Rouse  with  a  great  bag  of  salt  on  his  broad 
shoulders;  here  Roger  Prat,  arm-in-arm  with  his 
newly  regained  friend,  the  bear,  and  pointing  at 
Rouse  with  some  remark  to  King  Lud  of  raillery; 
here  Marlowe,  the  poet,  surveying  with  eager  eyes  the 

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John  Vytal:  A  Tale  of  the  Lost  Colony 

luxuriant  foliage  farther  inland  and  listening  with 
enthralment  to  the  songs  of  forest  birds ;  there  Gyll 
Croyden  running  toward  him  joyously,  with  a  fresh- 
plucked  nosegay  of  unknown,  fragrant  flowers  in 
her  hand;  here  Ananias  Dare  overlooking  a  couple 
of  sailors  who  rolled  a  cask  of  wine  across  the  beach ; 
there  Simon  Ferdinando,  important  with  a  hundred 
directions,  and  furtive  as  he  glanced  toward  Vytal; 
here  Governor  White,  for  a  moment  leaving  the  man- 
agement to  his  assistants,  and  here,  too,  beside  him, 
his  daughter  Eleanor,  her  face  pale  as  if  with  illness, 
her  long  cloak  still  about  her.  She  was  clasping  his 
arm  with  both  hands,  as  though  to  make  sure  of  no 
renewed  separation.  ''Father,  I  thank  God  we  are 
once  more  together.  The  days  were  very  long,  and 
almost  unendurable.'' 

But  there  was  no  rejoinder,  for  John  Vytal  stood 
before  them,  with  a  question  of  evident  importance 
on  his  lips.     "  Where  is  Sir  Walter  St.  Magil?'' 

''In  truth  I  know  not,''  and  the  governor's  kindly 
face  turned  to  the  men  at  work  near  by.  "  He  hath 
gone  out  to  the  Admiral,  perhaps." 

Vytal  left  them  with  a  grave,  almost  indifferent  bow 
to  Eleanor,  and,  boarding  the  pinnace,  was  about  to 
return  to  Ferdinando's  ship  in  quest  of  St.  Magil; 
but  he  felt  a  hand  on  his  arm  drawing  him  gently 
backward,  and,  turning,  he  saw  Manteo,  the  Indian,  *~ 
who  drew  him  aside  beyond  a  bend  in  the  shore. 
"My  brother,  he  hath  gone." 


CHAPTER  IX 

"  From  forth  her  ashes  shall  advance  her  head. 
And  flourish  once  again  that  erst  was  dead." 

— Marlowe,  in  Dido,  Queen  of  Carthage. 

VytaL  frowned  and  bit  his  lip.  ''When  did  he 
go,  and  whither?'' 

"  When,  I  can  say,  for  I  have  heard.  It  w^as  yes- 
terday, the  day  after  the  great  ship  and  our  father, 
the  governor,  came  to  Roanoke,  before  we  ourselves 
arrived.  But  whither  I  know  not,  save  that  it  was 
toward  the  great  forest  of  the  South/' 

"Alone?" 

The  Indian's  brow  clouded.  "  Nay,  I  grieve  that 
he  went  with  Tow^aye,  my  kinsman,  who  came  from 
England  on  the  Admiral.  I  aw^ait  thy  w^ord  to  fol- 
low the  trail  by  which  Towaye,  for  some  unknown 
purpose,  guides  thine  enemy." 

"  I  thank  you,  but  I  am  glad  that  he  is  gone.  He 
has  no  knowledge  ot  the  fl3^-boat's  arrival,  and  thus 
will  miscalculate  our  strength.  He  is  bound,  an  I 
mistake  not,  for  the  Spanish  city  of  St.  Augustine. 
Is  it  not  accessible  from  here  by  land?" 

''  It  is,"  replied  Manteo,  "  for  men  of  a  kindred  race 
came  hither  that  way  at  the  beginning  of  the  world, 
and  w^ere  slain  as  foes.  But  the  trail  hides  itself  as 
the  trail  a  dead  man  follows.  It  runs  through  an  end- 
less forest,  our  forefathers  have  said,  and  over  the 
face  of  angry  waters.  The  white  man  must  be  brave, 
though  evil,  and  my  kinsman  but  one  of  many  guides. 

io8 


John  Vytal:  A  Tale  of  the  Lost  Colony 

For  passing  through  Secotan,  five-and-twenty  leagues 
to  the  southward,  they  must  go,  with  manj^  wind- 
ings, as  serpents  go,  to  the  land  of  Casicola,  lord  of 
ten  thousand.  Also  they  must  pass  the  Weroances, 
Dicassa,  and  Toupee  Kyn,  of  whom  our  men  know 
nothing  save  the  sound  of  their  names,  which  comes 
like  an  echo  without  meaning.  And  they  will  come 
to  La  Grande  Copal,  where  there  are  stars  in  the  earth 
your  people  call  jewels,  and  buy  with  cloth.'' 

Vytal's  face  grew  more  troubled  as  the  Indian  pro- 
ceeded.    ''It  is  impossible  that  he  has  gone  so  far.'' 

"Yes,  but  there  may  be  yet  another  way.  The 
river  called  Waterin'-'  is  a  trail  itself,  leading  perhaps 
to  the  Spanish  towns." 

Vytal  seemed  but  half  satisfied.     "Are  you  sure 
he  has  left  the  island?" 
No,  but  I  will  see." 
Go,  then,  Manteo." 

"I  return  not,"  said  the  Indian,  "until  I  know," 
and  in  a  minute  he  was  lost  in  the  adjacent  woods. 

For  a  week  the  foremost  consideration  in  Vytal's 
mind,  after  the  cargo  had  been  landed,  was  to  ascer- 
tain, if  possible,  the  whereabouts  of  the  fifteen  men 
who,  being  the  stoutest  spirits  of  an  earlier  colonj^, 
had  been  left  the  year  before  to  hold  the  territory 
for  England.  The  inadequacy  of  this  arrangement, 
by  which  a  garrison  that  would  not  have  sufficed  to 
defend  a  small  fortress  was  left  to  guard  a  boundless 
acquisition,  is  perhaps  unparalleled  in  history.  But 
to  many  of  the  newly  arrived  colonists  the  utter  futil- 
ity of  the  plan  was  not  apparent.  They  had  not  yet 
experienced  the  desperate  hardships  of  an  infant 
settlement,  nor  realized  the  extent  and  latent  ferocity 

*  It  was  a  common  belief  of  the  time  that  a  river  ran  all  the 
way  from  Virginia  to  Florida. 

109 


it 


John  Vytal 

of  the  savage  hordes  that  overran  the  continent.  Fur- 
thermore, the  magnitude  and  nature  of  the  territory 
which  fifteen  men  had  been  appointed  to  hold  was  by- 
no  means  appreciated.  Nevertheless,  in  the  minds  of 
men  w^ho  had  played  their  games  of  life  against  odds 
and  could  justly  estimate  the  hazards  of  existence, 
the  likelihood  of  finding  the  little  company  seemed 
very  small.  Vytal,  for  one,  felt  far  from  sanguine, 
but  the  kindly,  impractical  governor,  although  he 
had  already  searched  the  whole  Island  of  Roanoke 
in  vain,  still  held  out  hope  of  ultimate  success. 

"I  doubt  not  we  shall  find  them  yet,''  he  said  one 
evening  to  Vytal,  ''on  some  adjacent  island.'' 

The  soldier  shook  his  head.  "  Let  us  go  once  again 
and  inspect  the  site  of  their  settlement." 

"It  is  a  most  dismal  scene,"  declared  the  governor, 
leading  the  way  to  a  road  running  inward  from  the 
shore.  "  But  my  men  can  soon  make  the  place  hab- 
itable." 

"  Habitable!"  exclaimed  a  voice  behind  them;  "  'tis 
a  perfect  Eden,"  and  the  speaker  joined  them. 

''Ay,  Master  Marlowe,"  returned  the  governor, 
glancing  at  the  new-comer  with  a  look  of  indulgent 
admiration.     "But  Eden  is  forsook." 

"'Tis  the  old  story,"  observed  the  poet,  "of  an  en- 
forced exodus,  but  wherein  lay  the  fatal  sin?  Are 
birds  evil?  Nay,  but  their  little  fate  in  a  falcon's 
guise  destroys  them." 

The  governor  looked  at  him  askance.  "I  have 
heard  of  your  loose  theology,  sir,  but  pray  you  to  re- 
strain it  here.    We  are  a  lonely  people,  and  need  God. " 

The  poet  made  no  answer.  The  unquestioning 
faith  of  men  like  Vytal  and  the  governor — the  faith 
direct,  plain,  and  utterly  free  from  the  cant  he  hated — 
caused  him  at  times  to  covet  their  deep  simplicity; 
again,  he  would  rail  against  religion,  and  wander  with 

no 


A  Tale  of  the  Lost  Colony 

vain  eagerness  through  the  mazes  of  a  complex  Pan- 
theism. But  at  last,  poetry,  pure  and  undefiled  by 
sophistries,  would  return  to  him  with  her  quieting, 
magical  touch,  and  restore  the  sunshine  to  his  world. 
"Dreamed  you  ever  of  such  verdure?''  he  said,  at 
length.  "  Nature  is  prodigal  here,  a  spendthrift  in 
a  far  country. " 

They  were  now  on  an  eminence  dominating  the 
bay  and  sea.  Vytal  stood  still  and  looked  inland^ 
then  turned  and  faced  the  water.  He  spoke  no  word, 
but  only  gazed  off  to  the  distant  shore.  At  last, 
catching  sight  of  the  busy  group  beneath  him,  he 
turned  again  and  rejoined  the  others.  "He  knows 
it  all,''  thought  Marlowe,  "even  better  than  I,  yet 
says  nothing." 

The  road,  overgrown  with  weeds  and  scarcely 
visible  in  places,  led  them  at  last  to  a  number  of  huts 
in  a  wide  clearing  at  the  north  end  of  the  island.  Here 
a  scene  of  decay  and  desolation  met  their  eyes.  The 
sun,  now  setting,  shot  long,  slanting  rays  across  the 
oval,  as  though  to  exhibit  every  detail  of  the  pict- 
ure in  one  merciless  moment  and  then  be  gone. 
'"  'Tis  an  impious  revelation,"  said  Marlowe,  glanc- 
ing about  drearily  at  the  numerous  deserted  huts. 
"  Look  at  that  hovel ;  'tis  but  the  corpse  of  a  house. 
And  that!  Its  windows  leer  like  the  eye-holes  of  a 
skull.  And  this  one,  the  least  decayed.  It  stands  to 
prove  itself  a  home,  with  the  mere  memory  of  pro- 
tection. How  vacantly  they  stare  at  us,  like  melan- 
choly madmen!  Come,  let  us  begone."  He  would 
have  started  back,  but  seeing  that  Vytal  and  the  gov- 
ernor had  not  yet  finished  their  more  practical  in- 
vestigation, followed  them  in  silence. 

Most  of  the  hovels  had  been  torn  down  to  within 
about  eight  feet  of  the  ground.  The  small  boards 
which  had  served  to  barricade  their  windows  were 

III 


John   Vytal 

scattered  about  like  the  fallen  slabs  of  graves,  while 
here  and  there  a  door,  evidently  unhinged  by  vio- 
lence, lay  fiat  against  the  earth,  as  though,  if  raised, 
it  would  reveal  the  entrance  to  a  subterranean  vault. 
The  roofs,  which  were  but  the  ceilings  of  the  first 
stories,  yawned  wide  to  the  sky,  save  where  a  few 
mouldering,  worm-pitted  rafters  deepened  the  inner 
gloom.  Melons  grew  about  walls  and  thresholds 
in  rotting  profusion,  while  a  hoard  of  parasitic  weeds 
and  wild  grape-vines  ran  in  and  out  between  the  logs. 
Some  of  the  cabins,  having  fared  yet  worse,  were  now 
but  black  heaps  of  charred  timber,  half  covered  with 
long  green  tendrils,  as  if  the  fingers  of  Nature  were 
striving  to  drag  them  back  to  life.  And  near  the  mid- 
dle of  the  clearing  a  large  pile  of  logs,  rafters,  bricks, 
and  stone  blocks  showed  that  a  fortress  had  been 
razed  to  the  ground. 

The  three  men  walked  on  with  few  words,  until 
Vytal,  standing  at  the  margin  of  the  oval,  called 
Marlowe's  attention  to  a  narrow  pathway  almost  con- 
cealed by  shrubs  and  fallen  leaves.  It  led  through 
the  dense  forest.  Impulsively,  Marlowe  started  to 
follow  it,  but  the  governor  would  have  restrained 
him.  ''Have  a  care.  Sir  Poet;  mayhap  this  is  an 
Indian  trail,  and  leads  to  danger!'' 

''No/'  called  Marlowe,  who,  unheeding  the  other's 
protest,  had  hastened  along  the  path  to  a  distance 
of  several  rods.     "Come." 

They  followed  him  and,  to  their  surprise,  came 
presently  out  on  a  second  clearing,  much  smaller 
than  the  first.  Here  a  cabin,  entirely  unobservable 
from  the  main  opening,  stood  more  boldly  than  all 
the  rest,  despite  its  isolation.  It  was  entirely  en- 
circled by  trees,  save  on  the  western  side,  where  a 
broad  breach  in  the  line  of  foliage  admitted  a  flood 
of  relentless  sunlight. 

112 


A  Tale   of  the   Lost  Colony 

The  three  men  started  forward  eagerly,  for  this 
house  might  even  then  have  contained  a  tenant.  Its 
door  was  closed,  its  windows  barred.  The  roof  had 
not  entirely  fallen,  for  a  willow's  branches  swept 
across  it  with  a  thousand  restless  whispers,  as  though 
to  a  being  within.  But  here,  too,  lank  weeds  clawed 
the  walls,  and  melons  rotted  before  the  threshold. 

Vytal  tried  the  door.  It  resisted  his  strong  press- 
ure. But  Marlowe,  raising  to  the  level  of  his  shoul- 
der a  large  stone,  not  unlike  a  cannon-ball  in  shape 
and  size,  flung  it  against  the  oaken  barrier.  It 
crashed  through  a  decayed  board  and  fell  inside,  first 
with  a  dull  thud,  and  then,  as  it  rolled,  a  crackling 
sound  like  the  snapping  of  dry  twigs.  Vytal  looked 
through  the  aperture,  but  could  distinguish  nothing 
for  the  gloom,  and  Marlowe  peered  in  with  no  better 
success.  ''It  holds  all  the  shadows  of  the  forest  in 
its  heart,''  he  said,  thrusting  a  hand  through  the 
hole.  "There  is  a  bar  of  iron  across  the  doorway." 
He  dislodged  the  metal  rod,  and  letting  it  fall,  pulled 
open  the  door,  whose  rusty  hinges  creaked  remon- 
strance as  he  entered. 

Vytal  and  the  governor,  following  him,  found 
themselves  standing  on  hard,  cold  earth,  to  which 
the  stone  and  iron  bar  had  fallen. 

A  sudden  gust  of  wind  slammed  the  door  behind 
them.  Vytal  stepped  back  to  reopen  it  and  admit 
light  into  the  gloomy  interior,  but  the  last  rays  of 
sunshine  crept  now  almost  horizontally  through  a 
rift  in  the  w^estern  wall.  ''They  desecrate  a  tomb,'' 
said  Marlowe,  "by  revealing  its  contents.  Look!" 
He  pointed  to  a  number  of  white  streaks  in  a  corner 
on  the  earth.     The  sunbeams  frolicked  across  them. 

"They  are  the  bones  of  a  fellow-creature,"  ex- 
claimed the  governor,  leaving  the  cabin  with  hor- 
ror. 

H  113 


(( 
if 


John  Vytal 

He  spoke  truth.  In  the  corner  lay  a  man's  bones, 
the  skull,  the  body's  frame,  the  limbs,  all  close  to- 
gether, but  separate. 

There  are  two  skulls  1''  ejaculated  Marlowe. 
No;  one  is  but  the  stone  you  threw.''  Vytal 
was  not  mistaken,  for  the  stone  had  rolled  among 
the  white  streaks,  snapping  some  and  crushing 
others  to  a  powder  that  shone  like  phosphorus  in 
the  sunlight. 

The  two  men  turned  away  from  the  ghastly  sight 
in  silence,  to  survey  the  room.  An  old  musket  stood 
against  the  wall,  its  barrel  poked  through  the  nar- 
row chink,  peering  out  at  the  forest.  A  rusty  pike 
lay  near  by,  its  long,  wooden  staff  stretched  out  from 
the  white  finger-bones  of  its  dead  possessor. 

The  cabin  was  devoid  of  furniture  save  for  a  rough- 
hewn  table  and  an  upturned  stool,  about  the  legs  of 
which  the  long  sinews  of  a  plant,  having  entered 
stealthily  from  without  through  numerous  knot- 
holes, had  twined  themselves  tenaciously. 

But  there  were  few  weeds  growing  within  the  hovel, 
for  the  earth,  like  adamant,  offered  no  fertility  even 
to  the  rankest  vegetation. 

Suddenly  the  sunlight  left  the  room,  and  a  chill- 
ing miasma  seemed  to  fill  it.  Marlowe  shuddered. 
''Let  us  leave  this  grave.  Its  gloom  gets  into  my 
brain.  One  man  outlived  his  mates  and  dwelt  alone 
in  this  vast  country,  daring  to  fight  single-handed 
against  Destiny — and  this  is  the  result — a  few  porous 
sticks  bleached  by  the  frivolous  sunbeams,  a  de- 
lusive glow  suggesting  the  divine  spark — and  ob- 
livion!" So  saying,  the  poet,  wrapping  his  cloak 
closer  about  him,  withdrew  to  the  open  air,  where 
the  governor,  also  dolefully  affected,  awaited  him. 

Vytal  came  out  slowly.  ''He  is  accustomed  to 
scenes  of  death,"   said  the  governor  to  Marlowe. 

114 


A  Tale   of  the   Lost  Colony 

"Death,  with  all  its  grim  carnality,  has  grown  fa- 
miliar in  the  years  of  war/' 

"Yes,  but  the  gloom  of  the  story  is  in  his  heart, 
beside  which  the  shadows  of  the  room  are  as  noth- 
ing. He  feels  these  things  down  deep,  but  is  ever 
vsilent/' 

They  stood  on  the  edge  of  the  glade  waiting  for 
the  subject  of  their  conversation,  who  was  walking 
slowly  around  the  cabin.  "He  looks  for  further 
traces  of  the  lost  men,''  remarked  the  governor. 

"No,  it  is  for  some  other  reason."  Marlowe  was 
not  mistaken,  Vytal's  close  inspection  of  the  hut's 
vicinage  being  from  a  widely  different  motive.  Care- 
fully he  examined  the  glade's  border  on  all  sides. 
To  the  west  he  found  a  wide,  natural  avenue  in  the 
forest  that  lost  itself  in  the  purple  distance;  to  the 
north,  a  dense  jungle  seemingly  impassable  for  man 
or  beast ;  to  the  east,  a  double  file  of  oaks  and  elms, 
growing  with  some  regularity  on  the  brow  of  a  low 
cliff,  their  trunks  surrounded  by  a  tangle  of  under- 
brush that  rose  to  the  height  of  several  feet  and  fell 
away  again,  to  ramble  through  long  grass  in  all 
directions.  Being  tall  enough  to  look  over  this 
wild  hedge-row,  Vytal  could  catch  a  glimpse  of  the 
sound  beneath  him,  and,  from  a  vantage-point  where 
a  dead  oak-branch  left  the  view  unobscured,  he  could 
just  distinguish  the  two  ships  riding  at  anchor,  with- 
in musket-range  of  his  position. 

Turning  then  to  the  south  side  of  the  clearing, 
he  came  to  a  strip  of  woods,  perhaps  fifty  yards  in 
width,  which  separated  the  hut  from  the  deserted 
settlement.  Evidently  satisfied  by  his  observations, 
he  rejoined  his  companions. 

"With  3^our  permission,"  he  said  to  Governor 
White,  "I  make  this  my  dwelling-place." 

The  governor  expostulated,   being  astonished  at 

115 


John  Vytal 

the  voluntary  choice  of  so  dismal  and  isolated  a  hab- 
itation, but  Marlowe  understood. 

''  I  prefer  it  to  any  other/'  said  the  soldier.  "  Have 
you  not  yet  suspected  that  we  are  likely  to  meet  en- 
emies here  on  Roanoke?'' 

''  Nay,  the  chance  is  slight.  Manteo  and  Towaye 
have  assured  me  of  their  people's  friendliness." 

Vytal  hesitated  before  he  spoke  again,  but  finally 
concluding  that  the  time  had  come  for  his  disclosure, 
made  known  the  main  facts  tersely  and  without  a 
word  of  incriminating  testimony  against  the  gov- 
ernor's son-in-law,  Ananias  Dare. 

Governor  White  received  the  information  in  mute 
astonishment  at  first,  seeming  loath  to  believe  that 
any  of  his  followers  had  planned  so  base  a  conspiracy. 
But  he  had  been  aware  before  now  of  Ferdinando's 
untrustworthy  character,  and  although  the  master 
had  explained  away  his  desertion  of  the  fly-boat  by 
asserting  that  its  pilot  knew  the  course,  and  had  re- 
quested him  not  to  shorten  sail  unnecessarily,  the 
governor's  first  mistrust  returned  to  him  now  with 
full  force.  ''We  must  apprehend  this  Ferdinando, 
and  bring  him  to  justice." 

"Nay,  with  your  permission,  I  will  leave  him  at 
large,  yet  watch  him  carefully.  Men  of  his  mould 
defeat  themselves.  By  close  surveillance  we  shall 
discover  any  mischief  he  may  seek  to  brew  among 
us.  An  open  punishment  would  affright  the  fellows 
who,  being  but  tools,  were  on  the  verge  of  mutiny. 
These  men  now  are  loyal  enough,  and,  if  well  treat- 
ed, will  fight  for  us.     Otherwise  they  might  desert." 

The  governor's  kindly  face  was  now  more  grieved 
than  angry.  ''I  had  not  thought  there  was  so  cai- 
tiff a  knave  as  Simon  among  our  people.  Think 
you  Sir  Walter  St.  Magil  will  return  with  a  force  to 
menace  our  little  colony?" 

ii6 


A  Tale   of  the   Lost  Colony 

"That  is  wellnigh  certain,  for  St.  Magil  plays 
into  the  hands  of  Phihp,  King  of  Spain.  The 
Spaniards  would  extend  their  possessions  north- 
ward, and  have  found  a  friend  to  aid  them.  This 
man,  believing  he  has  decreased  our  numbers  by- 
one- half,  has  gone  to  inform  his  patron's  subjects 
that  we  stupidly  wait  here  to  be  killed.'' 

"Whither  has  he  gone?" 

"That  I  cannot  tell.  At  first  I  thought  to  St. 
Augustine,  but  the  journey  by  land  is  very  difficult. 
The  Spaniards  await  him,  for  all  I  know,  in  a  camp 
not  half  so  far." 

The  governor,  deeply  troubled,  cast  about  for  the 
best  method  of  procedure.  "  Would  it  not  be  well  to 
pursue  St.  Magil,  and  overtake  him  if  possible  before 
he  reaches  his  destination?  I  have  heard  that  Ind- 
ians are  as  quick  and  sure  as  hounds  in  a  pursuit." 

"No.  It  is  best  to  drill  each  planter  in  the  use 
of  arms ;  then,  when  our  homes  are  built,  to  fortify 
the  town  as  best  we  may,  and  wait." 

"  But  we  shall  suffer  heavy  loss,  even  though  suc- 
cessful in  the  end." 

"Not  so  much  as  if  we  run  into  a  snare  with  no 
provision  for  defence.  And  we  shall  teach  them  a 
lesson." 

"But  at  how  great  a  cost  to  us?  You,  Captain 
Vytal,  have  not  a  child  to  consider,  I  have.  She 
is  a  woman,  brave,  'tis  true,  and  stout  of  heart,  but 
now  not  strong  in  body.  You  know  my  daughter. 
Mistress  Eleanor  Dare?" 

"Yes." 

"I  should  go  down  to  my  grave  broken-hearted 
were  harm  to  come  to  her." 
I  understand." 

No,  you  cannot,  you  who  talk  of  wars  as  pas- 
times, you  who  have  no  child  to  guard." 

117 


(C 


John  Vytal:  A  Tale  of  the  Lost  Colony 

"I  understand/'  repeated  Vytal,  breathing  heav- 
ily, and  Marlowe,  to  relieve  the  tension,  declared 
fervently,  ''We  will  defend  the  women  to  the  last 
man/' 

Vytal  turned  to  him  as  though  he  would  have 
asked  a  question,  but  looked  away  again  in  silence. 

They  were  now  nearing  the  workers  on  the  beach, 
who  made  ready  to  return  for  the  night  to  their  cab- 
ins in  the  fly-boat  and  Admiral,  where  they  were  to 
sleep  until  the  town  had  been  rebuilt.  Seeing  the 
governor  stop  to  speak  with  one  of  the  assistants, 
Marlowe  turned  to  his  taciturn  friend.  ''May  I 
share  that  hermit's  hut  with  you?" 

"  I  would  share  it  with  no  other,"  and  Vytal  looked 
down  at  the  poet  as  at  a  younger  brother.  Mar- 
lowe's face  brightened.  He  started  ahead  with  a 
buoyant  step.  "Now  we  shall  live  together,  a  pair 
of  barbarians,  heavily  armed  against  the  world  and 
waiting  to  see  w^hich  must  be  the  last  man."  He 
would  have  run  on  further  in  his  reckless  manner, 
but  there  came  no  response  to  the  outburst  of  defiant 
enthusiasm.  Turning  to  ascertain  the  reason,  he 
was  surprised  to  find  that  his  companion,  who  had 
dropped  behind  him,  was  at  this  moment  entering 
the  woods  in  company  with  Manteo,  the  Indian. 

"  My  brother,  a  tongue  of  smoke  licks  the  sky  far 
to  the  southward;  yet  the  forest  burns  not;  the 
smoke  is  from  the  shore." 

"You  think  it  is  the  camp  of  white  men?" 

"I  do ;  for  did  I  not  see  a  ship  asleep  at  anchor 
and  the  gleam  of  armor  under  a  hill?" 

A  look  of  intense  satisfaction  crossed  Vytal 's  face. 
"They  are  come/'  he  said. 


CHAPTER  X 

"  As  had  you  seen  her  j^twould  have  moved  your  heart. 
Though  countermined  with  walls  of  brass,  to  love. 
Or  at  the  least  to  pity." 

—MARLOWE,  in  The  Jew  of  Malta. 

On  the  third  night  following  Manteo's  return, 
Vytal  and  Marlowe  were  together  in  the  secluded 
hut  of  their  choosing.  The  cabin  contained  but  one 
room,  scantily  furnished  by  two  pallets  of  straw,  a 
roughhewn  table,  a  couple  of  chairs,  and  other  bare 
necessities  of  a  home's  interior. 

The  weather  was  foul,  the  sky  lowering.  Occa- 
sionally a  gleam  of  distant  lightning  shot  through 
chinks  in  the  hovel  wall,  straight  across  Vytal's 
face,  as,  deep  in  thought,  he  sat  beside  the  table.  A 
tempestuous  wind,  shrieking  like  a  shrew  in  heated 
brawl,  seemed  bent  on  extinguishing  a  cresset  which 
had  been  thrust  between  the  logs,  but  succeeded  only 
in  causing  the  light  to  flare  uncertainly,  as  though 
the  torch  were  being  brandished  aloft  by  an  unseen 
hand. 

As  the  gale  increased,  Marlowe,  who  had  been 
half  reclining  on  his  pallet  in  a  dark  corner,  rose 
and  peered  out  through  the  hole  in  the  door  which 
he  had  made  with  the  skull-like  stone.  The  aper- 
ture, jagged  and  splintered  at  the  edges,  had  pur- 
posely been  left  uncovered,  as  the  hut's  original  win- 
dows were  still  barred. 

''  V  faith,  'tis  a  murky  night,"  said  Marlowe,  striv- 
ing to  determine  the  outlines  of  trees  against  the  sky. 

119 


John  Vytal 

"This  wind's  a  very  nightmare  to  the  woods."  He 
turned  slowly  and  sat  down  at  the  table.  ''  'Tis  well 
that  most  of  the  colonists  have  built  and  occupied 
their  homes.  Troth,  I  pity  them  who  sleep  aboard 
the  ships  at  anchor.'' 

Vytal  inclined  his  head,  and  Christopher  smiled 
comprehendingly.  Eleanor,  at  least,  was  safe  and 
unharassed  —  hence  Vytal's  unconcern.  Mistress 
Dare,  of  whom  lately  they  had  seen  nothing,  was 
housed  in  the  governor's  new-built  dwelling,  beyond 
the  strip  of  woodland  whose  high  outline  Marlowe 
had  just  found  indeterminate  between  this  cabin  and 
the  town. 

But  Gyll  Croyden  was  still  on  board  the  Admiral. 
Marlowe  remembered  this,  and  his  thoughts  pictured 
vividly  the  two  women  in  contrast — one,  as  he  sup- 
posed, all  content  and  comfort ;  the  other  at  the  mer- 
cy of  every  wind  and  wave  that  crossed  her  life. 

Listlessly  he  toyed  with  a  sheet  of  paper  on  the 
table,  and,  picking  up  a  pen,  dipped  it  in  an  ink- 
horn  at  his  side. 

"Comparisons  are  odious/'  he  wrote,  slowly,  little 
dreaming  that  the  words,  born  of  that  fleeting  con- 
trast in  his  mind,  were  to  become  proverbial  the  world 
over.  But,  on  raising  his  eyes  to  Vytal's  face,  he 
found  in  the  deep  expression  none  of  the  odiousness 
of  comjDarison,  for  in  his  friend's  thoughts  there  was 
only  one  woman  to  be  considered. 

Again  the  poet  smiled,  as  one  who  half  gladly,  yet 
half  sadly,  understands,  and  once  more  his  reflec- 
tions shaped  themselves  in  words.  He  wrote,  care- 
lessly, "Who  ever  lov'd  that  lovd  not  at  first  sight?" 
and,  letting  fall  the  pen,  handed  the  paper  to  Vytal. 
The  soldier  read  and  re-read,  but  made  no  response 
whatever,  for,  even  as  his  eyes  were  raised  from  the 
writing,  his  look  changed  suddenly,  and  Marlowe, 

120 


A  Tale   of  the  Lost  Colony 

with  astonishment,  saw  him  gazing  transfixedly 
toward  the  battered  door. 

As  a  dream  comes  in  the  night-time  to  recall  the 
thoughts  of  day,  so  a  face,  seemingly  visionary,  ap- 
peared now  to  the  two  men.  The  jagged  edge  of  the 
door's  orifice  framed  it  uncertainly,  but  the  cresset's 
light  fell  across  the  features  in  vivid  revelation. 

VytaFs  lips  parted  as  though  he  would  have 
spoken,  but  it  was  Marlowe  who  voiced  the  name. 

''Eleanor— Mistress  Dare!'' 

And  now  slowly,  yet  before  the  two  could  recover 
from  amaze,  the  door  was  opened,  and,  like  a  white 
dove  from  the  heart  of  the  gale,  Eleanor  came  within 
the  cabin. 

The  door  slammed,  and  then  all  was  quiet,  both 
men  sitting  spellbound,  for  a  single  glance  had  told 
them  that  she  was  walking  in  her  sleep.  Her  eyes 
were  open,  but  evidently  unseeing,  with  that  vaguely 
transcendental  look  of  the  somnambulist;  and  she 
was  clad  only  in  a  white  simar  of  silk.  Her  rus- 
set hair,  with  which  the  wind  had  rioted,  hung  in 
profuse  disorder  about  her  shoulders  and  beneath 
her  throat,  where  now  it  rose  and  fell  more  gently 
with  the  undulation  of  her  breast.  Her  hands, 
clasped  before  her,  added,  an  effect  of  rest  to  the  blind 
bewilderment  of  her  all-unconscious  pose. 

For  a  moment  she  stood  mutely  facing  them  and 
looking,  as  it  were,  through  them  to  a  limitless  be- 
yond. 

Vytal  rose.  ''Mistress  Dare,  I  pray  you — "  but 
as  the  name  Dare  seemed  to  be  borne  in  upon  her  mind 
she  cried  out  terrifiedly,  and,  swa^^ing,  would  have 
fallen,  had  he  not  supported  her  and  led  her  to  his 
pallet  of  straw. 

As  his  hand  touched  hers,  Vytal  started.  "She 
hath  a  fever,"  he  said  to  Marlowe.     "Do  you  seek 

121 


John  Vytal 

the  chirurgeon.  He  sleeps  on  the  Admiral  to-night 
— also  her  tire-woman,  Margery  Harvie,  at  the  gov- 
ernor's house/' 

Hastily  Marlowe  started  out,  and  the  two  were  left 
alone. 

In  silence,  Vytal  covered  Eleanor  with  his  cloak, 
then,  kneeling  beside  her  with  all  of  a  man's  tender 
concern  and  helplessness,  held  her  hand. 

Her  mind  was  wandering  now,  and  she  spoke 
brokenly.  The  torchlight  revealed  her  expression 
to  him,  and  every  look  betokened  change  of  subject 
in  her  thoughts,  or,  rather,  change  of  subconscious 
impression,  for  the  words  never  forsook  a  central 
theme,  around  which  her  mind  seemed  to  revolve  in 
desperate  fascination. 

Occasionally  a  glimmer  of  the  distant  lightning 
fell  across  the  listener's  face,  showing  it  tense  and 
deep-cut  with  the  lines  of  a  new  resignation. 

"Oh,  I  am  but  a  child,"  he  heard  her  say,  as  her 
speech  grew  more  coherent.  "I  pray  thee,  father, 
take  me  not  to  London  .  .  .  'twill  ne'er  be  the  same 
to  me  as  this  .  .  .  these  vagrant  flowers  .  .  .  they 
grow  not  thus  in  the  streets  of  towns."  Her  voice 
was  tremulous  with  tears.  "Is't  true,  father,  that 
the  queen  .  .  .  hath  sent  for  thee  .  .  .  oh,  then, 
thou'lt  go  ...  I  prove  no  hinderance  .  .  .  thou'lt 
go,  and  I'll  play  at  happiness  in  London  .  .  . 
'Tis  best."  She  paused  and  tossed  feverishly  on 
the  narrow  pallet;  but  at  length,  as  Vytal's  firm 
grasp  seemed  to  comfort  her,  she  lay  quite  still 
and  spoke  again.  Several  years  had  apparently 
elapsed  in  the  life  she  was  re-living.  ''  Alack,  I  knew 
we'd  find  no  content  in  London  .  .  .  What  is't  wor- 
ries thee  so,  my  father?"  Suddenly  a  second  cry 
escaped  her.  ''What  sayest  thou?  Her  Majesty 
would  have  me  married!  .  .  .  and  'tis  the  only  way 

122 


A  Tale   of  the   Lost    Colony 

.  .  .  nay,  nay  .  .  .  Will  she  not  spare  thee,  father? 
Thou  hast  done  naught  amiss  .  .  .  'Tis  most  un- 
just .  .  .  Ah,  nay,  in  troth,  I  cannot  .  .  .  yet  'tis 
all  for  thee  ...  for  thee  .  .  .  then  tell  her  Majesty 
I  will." 

Her  look  changed,  and  she  smiled  sadly,  as  though 
resigned,  a  second  person  seeming  to  enter  in  upon 
her  dream.  "  Ananias,  it  shall  be  as  you  desire  .  .  . 
If  thou  It  rest  content  with  friendship  for  a  time,  per- 
chance in  the  coming  days  111  learn  to  love  thee, 
cousin,  but  now  I  cannot  .  .  .  My  father  alone  is 
in  my  heart.'' 

She  broke  off  abruptly  and  grasped  Vytal's  hand, 
as  though  upon  that  grasp  depended  her  salvation 
from  a  fate  far  worse  than  death.  Evidently  behind 
all  the  foremost  people  of  her  delirium  a  dominant 
personality  influenced  her  mind — the  same  person- 
ality, perhaps,  w^hose  thrall  had  in  some  strange  way 
draw^n  her  to  the  cabin.  And  now  she  fell  to  sobbing, 
sobbing  in  anguish,  and  her  helplessly  childlike  ex- 
pression tortured  Vytal's  soul.  "Oh,  Ananias,  I 
knew  not  of  this  great  weakness  ...  I  reck'd  not 
against  thy  love  of  wine  .  .  .  God  pity  me  ..." 

Then  for  long  she  lay  moaning  and  whispering 
inarticulately,  Vytal  kneeling  beside  her,  scarcely 
more  conscious  than  herself.  The  wind,  subsiding, 
wailed  about  the  cabin,  leaving  the  torchlight  steadier 
w^ithin.  The  damp  earth,  as  yet  unfloored,  lent  to 
the  room  a  tomblike  chill,  and  leaves  rustled  across 
the  rafters. 

Eleanor,  turning  restlessly,  gazed  into  a  dark  cor- 
ner, as  if  yet  another  figure  had  defined  itself  amid 
all  the  complexity  of  fevered  thought.  ''Margery, 
I  must  tell  thee,"  she  said,  with  the  impassivity  of 
one  who  has  no  interest  in  life.     ''I  am  with  child." 

Then  again  all  was  silent  save  for  the  low  moan 

123 


John   Vytal 

and  whisper  of  the  wind  as  it  died  slowly  in  the 
forest. 

Vytal  rose  and  went  to  the  door,  acutely  realizing 
that  to  remain  longer  beside  the  bed  and  hear  these 
words  of  a  breaking  heart  was  not  only  to  torture 
himself,  but  to  profane  the  soul  that,  all  unknowing, 
gave  them  utterance.  ''  John  Vytal,  I  love  thee  .  .  . 
thee  only  .  .  .  always.'' 

He  trembled,  then  mechanically  opened  the  door, 
passed  out,  and,  closing  it  again,  stood  outside  before 
it,  fixed  and  rigid  like  a  sentinel  on  duty.  Only  in- 
coherent phrases  came  to  him  now,  inarticulate  and 
meaningless  in  language,  yet  fraught  with  so  ter- 
rible a  significance  that  he  strove  to  force  upon  his 
mind  a  condition  utterly  devoid  of  thought. 

But  with  Vytal  this  was  ever  impossible,  and  so 
at  the  last,  with  a  great  mental  effort,  he  clutched  at 
the  consideration  of  outward  and  practical  necessity. 
Would  Marlowe  never  return  with  aid?  He  listened 
desperately  for  footsteps.  Every  slight  rustle,  every 
sound  of  wind  and  wood  that  came  instead,  filled  his 
ears  and  brain,  until  all  the  world  and  existence 
seemed  but  a  medley  of  sounds,  trivial,  but  wonder- 
fully important ;  low,  but  always  audible  and  intent- 
ly to  be  heeded  in  the  night. 

When  at  last  he  heard  a  footfall  he  realized  dimly 
that  this  was  not  what  he  had  expected;  it  was  not 
from  the  woods,  but  from  within  the  hut. 

Slowly  the  door  opened,  and  Eleanor  stood  looking 
into  his  face.  Her  eyes,  though  bewildered,  were 
calm  and  recognizing,  while  her  whole  expression 
seemed  indicative  of  consciousness  regained.  The 
somnambulism  and  delirium,  not  unnatural  to  one 
in  her  condition,  had  left  her  very  feeble  in  body 
but  mentally  aroused.  As  Vytal  realized  this,  the 
demands  of  the  moment  became  paramount  to  him, 

124 


A  Tale   of  the   Lost   Colony 

his  own  terrible  lethargy  being  broken  to  meet  her 
needs. 

"Mistress  Dare/'  he  said,  calmly,  ''I  pray  you  rest 
here  longer.     I  have  sent  for  aid.'' 

For  a  moment  she  made  no  response,  but  stood 
looking  about  her  at  the  room's  interior.  The  torch- 
light fell  across  a  sheet  of  paper  on  the  table.  First 
a  single  written  sentence  met  her  eye : 

"Comparisons  are  odious." 

She  shivered  and  would  have  turned  away,  but 
there  was  more  writing,  which  seemed  to  speak  to 
her,  though  she  was  not  sensible  of  reading  the  lines, 
even  to  herself : 

"  Who  ever  lovd  that  lov'd  not  at  first  sight?" 

She  looked  from  the  table  out  into  the  darkness, 
and  then  at  Vytal.  ''Oh,  sir,  tell  me  how  came  I 
hither — thus — at  night  1"  She  clasped  his  cloak 
tightly  about  her,  leaning  against  the  door-post  for 
support. 

"You  have  been  stricken,  madam,  with  a  fever. 
I  pray  you  rest." 

At  this  a  new  apprehension  came  into  her  eyes. 
"Oh,  John  Vytal,  have  I  spoken  in  feverish  way? 
Tell  me,  tell  me — " 

A  quick  denial  sprang  to  his  lips.  He  believed 
that  deception  then  would  have  been  no  lie,  but  to  the 
man  who  had  ever  fought  for  truth,  to  the  simple, 
direct  nature,  even  that  deception  was  impossible. 

"  You  spoke,  madam ;  yet,  believe  me,  your  w^ords 
I  shall  withhold  forever,  even  from  m^^self." 

Long  they  stood  in  silence,  conveying  no  thought 
one  to  the  other,  by  word,  or  look,  or  slightest  gest- 
ure, their  spirits,  at  the  end  of  that  silent  lifetime, 
seeming  to  meet  and  become  one;  yet  even  in  the 
instant  of  their  acute  conception  of  the  union  they 
stood  apart,  as  if  denying  the  bond. 

125 


John  Vytal:  A  Tale  of  the  Lost  Colony 

Finally  he  saw  her  tremble,  and  a  keen  realization 
of  her  own  despair  rose  above  all  thoughts  of  self. 
''Thank  God/'  he  said,  ''our  colony  hath  need  of 
us.     There's  work  to  do — not  for  me  only,  but  for 

you." 

Thereafter  she  passed  him,  inclining  her  head  in 
vague  assent,  and  with  a  strenuous  effort  started 
out  in  the  darkness  toward  the  gate  of  the  main  en- 
closure. 

He  could  not  follow,  knowing  that  her  silence 
prayed  him  to  withhold  assistance,  yet  every  instinct 
fought  against  his  self-control. 

"I  will  send  the  chirurgeon,''  he  said,  "to  your 
father's  house."" 


CHAPTER  XI 

"Now  will  I  show  myself 
To  have  more  of  the  serpent  than  the  dove; 
That  is — more  knave  than  fool." 

—Marlowe,  in  The  Jew  of  Malta. 

Even  the  sanguine  governor  had  by  now  given 
up  all  hope  of  finding  any  survivor  of  the  fifteen  men 
who  had  been  left  to  hold  the  territory  for  England. 
The  supposition  became  general  that  these  unfort- 
unates had  been  massacred  by  a  tribe  of  hostile 
savages,  known  through  Manteo  as  Winginas. 
The  colonists  were  much  surprised,  nevertheless, 
when,  on  a  day  early  in  August,  their  suspicions 
were  seemingly  verified  in  an  unexpected  way. 

In  the  afternoon  Vytal  sought  Rouse  at  the  for- 
tress, which  had  been  rebuilt. 
Where  is  Roger?'" 

I  know  not,''  replied  Hugh.  '"He  is  mad  in  this 
new  country,  more  addle-pated  than  before.  An 
hour  ago  I  saw  him  leading  King  Lud  away  into 
the  woods,  and,  following  him.  Mistress  Gyll  Croy- 
den,  after  whom  he  runs  nowadays  as  the  bear  runs 
after  him.  They  went,  I  think,  to  speed  some  friend- 
ly Indians  on  their  homeward  way.  But  he  is  mad 
with  his  pipe  and  tabor,  his  cittern  and  King  Lud. 
I  fear  in  his  wagging  head  there  is  no  sense  left." 

Vytal  smiled.  He  knew  men.  ''Come,  we  will 
go  in  search  of  them.  I  must  see  Roger  without 
delay." 

They  started  out  together  on  the  trail  the  Indians 

127 


John  Vytal 

had  taken,  Vytal  telling  briefly  of  St.  Magil's  ap- 
proach, and  Rouse  listening  with  more  of  satisfac- 
tion than  alarm.  At  length,  after  a  long  walk,  they 
heard  the  familiar  notes  of  a  flute  gone  wild,  and  push- 
ing forward  to  an  opening  in  the  woods  that  bordered 
on  the  water,  came  within  view  of  a  scene  that  is  well- 
nigh  indescribable. 

There,  in  the  middle  of  the  glade,  sat  Roger  Prat 
on  his  tabor,  piping  for  dear  life,  while  Gyll  Croyden 
flashed  in  and  out  amid  the  shadows  in  a  dance  even 
more  fast  and  furious  than  the  tune.  But  this  was 
not  all;  for  there,  in  ludicrous  contrast,  stood  King 
Lud,  the  bear,  facing  her  from  across  the  sward,  erect 
on  his  hind-legs  and  curveting  clumsily  about.  His 
nose  sniffed  the  air;  his  fore-paws  dangled  idly  on 
his  shaggy  breast;  but  the  bandy  hind-legs  danced 
with  an  awkward  alacrity,  while  he  shambled  hither 
and  thither  as  though  on  a  red-hot  iron.  Again  and 
again  he  revolved  slowly  in  a  cumbrous,  rotary  jump, 
maintaining  his  equilibrium  with  the  utmost  effort 
of  ponderous  energy.  And  still  the  flutist  played 
his  rollicking  tune,  the  romp  of  the  notes  accompany- 
ing occasional  outbursts  of  musical  laughter  and 
warbled  catches  from  Mistress  Croyden's  lips. 

Mistress  Croyden  herself  was  undeniably  the  life 
and  key-note  of  the  extravagant  orgie,  dancing,  and 
dancing  as  only  impulse  led  her,  in  utter  abandon  and 
unrestrainable  liberty  of  motion,  until  her  little  feet 
sped  to  no  tune,  but  outstripped  Prat's  endeavors — 
madly,  riotously  leaped,  tripped,  pirouetted,  glided, 
and  were  never  still.  She  whirled  first,  then  ran  for- 
ward as  though  on  wings,  then,  bending  low  in  mock 
courtesy  to  her  bulky  partner,  receded  as  if  to  vanish 
in  the  air.  Her  curls,  tumbling  about  her  shoul- 
ders, shone  like  gold  in  the  sun's  last  rays;  her 
velvet  cap  had  fallen  to  the  ground  as  though  it, 

128 


A  Tale   of  the   Lost  Colony 

with  decorum,  had  been  thrown  wildly  to  the 
winds. 

She  had  not  seen  Vytal  and  Rouse,  who  held  back 
within  the  wood,  but  the  sight  of  a  long  row  of  dusky 
faces  looking  at  her  wonderingly  from  the  water's 
margin  seemed  only  to  increase  the  madness  of  her 
dance.  The  Indians  stood  near  their  canoes,  spell- 
bound before  departing.  Indeed,  they  could  not  de- 
part until  this  preterhuman  apparition,  with  its 
phantom  bear  and  spirit  of  a  woman,  had  dissolved, 
as  it  surely  must,  like  a  dream. 

Suddenly,  obeying  some  new  whim,  Roger  slack- 
ened the  speed  of  his  Pan-like  music  and  subdued 
the  strains  to  a  more  pensive  melody.  In  perfect 
accord  with  the  change,  Gyll  Croyden  fell  to  a  slower 
motion,  a  dance  no  more  definite,  but  only  less  ec- 
centric and  vivacious.  With  a  sensuous,  mystical 
step  she  seemed  to  sway  and  flow  into  the  heart  of 
a  new  song  that  her  bird'  s  voice  lilted  softly,  and 
she  looked  no  longer  at  the  bear.  As  if  resenting 
this  new  indifference.  King  Lud  fell  to  his  natural 
position  with  a  growl,  and,  returning  to  Roger,  sat 
disconsolate  at  the  player's  side.  Then  Gyll  sank 
down  breathless  near  him  and  used  the  shaggy 
shoulder  as  a  cushion  for  support,  her  curls  shining 
against  the  rough  background  of  his  coat,  her  song 
dying  in  a  laugh. 

She  had  no  fear  of  the  brute,  for  through  all  those 
days  when  his  master  had  been  unexpectedly  absent 
on  the  fly-boat,  she  and  she  alone  had  ventured  to 
attend  King  Lud,  coaxing  and  scolding  him  into  a 
condition  of  amity  and  servitude.  As  the  pipe,  with  a 
wailing  finale,  became  silent,  Vytal  and  Rouse  stepped 
into  the  opening. 

Instantly  Roger  Prat,  a  somewhat  sheepish  trepid- 
ity  in  his  bulging  eyes,  jumped  up  from  the  tabor, 
I  129 


John  Vytal 

and,  thrusting  the  pipe  with  an  obvious  attempt  at 
conceahnent  into  his  belt,  bowed  low  before  them. 
''Thus/'  he  ventured,  waving  his  fat  hand  at  the 
dark  figures  on  the  water's  edge — "  thus  we  tame  the 
redskins/' 

''And  a  king/'  added  Gyll  Croyden,  stroking  the 
bear's  nose  with  delicate  fingers.  She  was  looking 
down  at  King  Lud,  for  somehow  her  laughing  eyes 
persisted  in  avoiding  the  face  of  Vytal.  Yet  they 
were  by  no  means  bashful 

Rouse  looked  down  at  Prat.  "Vagabond/'  he 
muttered,  under  his  heavy  mustache,  "  Bubble- wit ! " 

But  Roger  only  turned  on  the  big  soldier  a  glance 
of  mimic  scorn  and  commiseration,  mumbling  some 
retort,  in  which  "  Ox"  and  "  Blunderbuss"  were  alone 
intelligible. 

These  courtesies  were  quickly  interrupted  by  Vytal, 
who  spoke  a  word  or  two  in  low  tones  to  Prat.  Im- 
mediately that  worthy  was  transformed.  His  hand 
came  forward  from  the  flute  to  his  sword-hilt.  The 
merriment  died  out  of  his  face,  while  a  look  almost 
stern  and  forbidding,  yet,  curiously  enough,  not  at 
all  incongruous,  crossed  his  stubby  features. 

The  Indians,  one  by  one,  withdrew  to  their  canoes 
and  vanished  into  the  deepening  darkness.  The 
three  soldiers  and  Gyll  Croyden,  turning  their  backs 
to  the  water,  started  homeward.  But  suddenly  they 
heard  a  light,  grating  sound  behind  them  on  the  shore, 
and  a  voice,  calling  to  them  in  pure  English,  caused 
them  to  turn  about  again  with  extreme  surprise. 

A  man,wearing  a  rusty  steel  corselet  and  bonnet, 
a  sword,  and  shabby  leathern  breeches,  was  dragging 
a  canoe  onto  the  beach.  Having  drawn  the  prow 
with  an  evident  effort  to  security  among  the  weeds 
and  tall  grasses  that  lined  the  glade,  he  came  stag- 
gering forward  to  the  amazed  onlookers,  and  crying 

130 


A  Tale   of  the    Lost  Colony 

aloud/' At  last!  at  lastT'  fell  apparently  lifeless  at 
their  feet. 

Quickly,  with  a  woman's  eternal  instinct,  Gyll 
Croyden  ran  to  the  water,  took  off  her  neckerchief, 
wetted  it,  and  returned  to  the  prone  figure  with  ready 
aid.  Drawing  off  his  heavy  headgear,  she  then 
bathed  the  man's  temples,  and  bidding  Prat  bring 
the  helmet  to  her,  filled  with  water,  presently  dashed 
the  cooling  liquid  in  her  patient's  face.  "  Poor  boy ! " 
she  exclaimed,  for  the  face,  despite  its  full  beard  and 
long  mustache,  was  very  young. 

Perhaps  half  an  hour  elapsed  before  signs  of  re- 
turning consciousness  rewarded  her  efforts.  Then, 
slowly,  a  pair  of  blue  eyes  opened  and  looked  into 
hers,  after  which,  painfully,  the  forlorn  soldier  stood 
upon  his  feet. 

A  volley  of  questions  rose  to  the  lips  of  Gyll  and 
Roger ;  but  Vytal,  who  had  stood  watching  the  mys- 
terious stranger  in  silence,  disappointed  their  curi- 
osity. 

''It  grows  dark,"  he  said,  addressing  the  youth. 
"  Kn  you,  sir,  can  walk,  we  had  best  hasten  to  the 
town.'' 

The  other,  seeming  to  have  regained  his  strength 
with  surprising  suddenness,  declared,  "  If  it  be  not 
too  far,  I  can  accompany  you  with  little  aid." 

"  The  darkness  matters  not,"  averred  Prat.  "  See, 
I  have  brought  a  lanthorn."  And,  so  saying,  he 
lighted  the  sheltered  candle  with  flint  and  steel. 
Handing  the  lanthorn  to  Gyll,  who,  like  a  will-o'-the- 
wisp,  led  the  way  into  the  forest,  he  then  lent  assist- 
ance to  Rouse  in  supporting  the  stranger.  For  sev- 
eral minutes  they  followed  the  trail  without  speak- 
ing ;  but  soon  their  ragged  charge  broke  the  silence. 
He  spoke  as  though  to  himself,  in  a  voice  suggestive 
of  vague  reminiscence.     Presently  his  words  became 

131 


John  Vytal 

more  audible,  the  broken  phrases  more  coherent. 
''A  year/'  he  said — "a  year  in  hell!''  And  then,  in 
a  clear,  low  tone,  ''There  were  fifteen  men  of  us, 
just  fifteen  men,  all  damned  save  one." 

"My  God!"  ejaculated  Rouse,  halting  suddenly; 
and  Roger,  coming  lil^ewise  to  a  stand-still,  stood 
surveying  the  youthful,  bearded  face,  with  mouth 
agape  in  mute  amazement. 

Vytal  turned,  but,  fearing  to  break  the  spell  of  mem- 
ory, said  nothing.  And  Gyll  Croyden,  who  had  half 
caught  the  meaning  of  the  words,  returned  to  the 
group  with  her  lanthorn.  Holding  the  light  high, 
so  that  its  dim  rays  fell  athwart  the  stranger's  face, 
she,  too,  gazed  into  the  boyish  blue  eyes  with  wonder 
and  impatience.  As  the  features  were  thus  illumi- 
nated, Vytal's  expression  changed.  In  a  voice  that 
surprised  its  hearers  by  an  unaccustomed  vague- 
ness of  tone,  which  matched  in  uncertainty  the 
youth's,  own  accents,  he  demanded,  slowly,  ''  Your 
name,  sir;  first,  your  name." 

The  blue  eyes  met  Vytal's  look  squarely,  but, 
blending  with  their  candor,  a  peculiar,  veiled  expres- 
sion suggested  to  the  keen  observer  an  incongruous 
amusement. 

^' Ralph  Contempt." 

"Ralph  Contempt!"  echoed  Roger,  in  an  under- 
tone.    "  It  hath  the  sound  of  a  stage  conceit.  " 

The  stranger  turned  to  him,  smiling  feebly.  "  You 
speak  as  though  I  had  cliristened  myself.  Believe 
me,  it  is  a  miracle  that  I  remember  the  name  at  all." 
His  phrases  became  wandering  again,  and  he  passed 
a  hand  across  his  forehead.  "Fifteen  men,"  he 
laughed  aloud.  "Fifteen  to  guard  the  possessions 
of  their  gracious  queen.  Fifteen  soldiers  .  .  .  very 
brave,  I  assure  you  .  .  .  fifteen  in  the  middle  of  hell 
.  .  .  but  so  brave,  mark  you,  that  a  horde  of  ram- 

132 


A  Tale  of  the  Lost  Colony- 
pant  devils,  with  firebrands  and  a  myriad  whistling 
arrows,  hesitated,  really  hesitated,  in  very  fear  be- 
fore them.  A  thousand  red  demons  .  .  .  and,  oh, 
what  a  song  the  weapons  sang!  It  laughs  in  my 
ears  even  now/'  He  smiled  with  a  look  that  only 
intensified  the  horror  of  his  words  by  its  genuine 
gayety.  "  Fourteen  men  damned,  dead  and  damned 
.  .  .  worse  yet,  one  man  alive  to  be  played  with  .  .  . 
oh,  'twas  a  merry  game  in  hell!  A  game  of  pall- 
mall,  a  new  kind  of  badminton  .  .  .  painted  devils, 
you  know,  and  then  the  toy,  the  ball,  the  shuttle- 
cock, the  hobby-horse,  call  it  what  you  will — that 
crawling  thing  in  the  centre,  scorched  and  sore  .  .  . 
behold,  my  masters,  the  toy!''  He  drew  himself  up 
to  his  full  height  and  looked  from  one  to  another, 
laughing.  With  the  exception  of  Vytal,  the  listen- 
ers could  not  but  avert  their  glance — Hugh  Rouse 
touching  his  brow  significantly;  Prat,  with  a  grave 
nod,  concurring  in  the  verdict.  Gyll  Croyden  turned 
away  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  and  retraced  her  steps 
on  the  homeward  trail.  It  was  not  until  she  had 
forgetfully  left  them  in  darkness,  her  light  but  a 
dim  spark  among  the  trees,  that  the  others  followed 
her.  Vytal  walked  on  alone  in  deep  thought,  the 
unfortunate  bringing  up  the  rear  with  lagging  step 
between  Prat  and  Rouse,  who  maintained  a  gloomy 
silence.  Occasionally  the  youth  would  laugh,  and, 
seeming  to  recall  some  incident  of  a  terrible  combat 
and  captivity,  would  travesty  the  same  with  the  in- 
consistency of  dementia. 

It  was  late  in  the  evening  when  the  little  party  ar- 
rived at  its  destination.  A  sentry,  guarding  the 
main  entrance  of  the  palisade,  which  by  now  had 
been  completed,  peered  through  a  chink  in  the  up- 
right logs.  Vytal,  from  without,  uttered  the  watch- 
word, for   the  sentry's  ears  alone.     Instantly  they 

133 


John    Vytal 

were  admitted,  the  guardian  of  the  town's  security- 
glancing  curiously  at  the  unknown  figure  of  Ralph 
Contempt. 

''  In  the  morning/'  whispered  Prat, ''  you  shall  hear 
all/'  And  turning  to  Vytal,  he  asked:  "Whither, 
captain,  shall  we  conduct  the  man?  To  a  pallet  in 
the  fortress  near  our  own?'' 

''Nay,  he  will  perhaps  fare  better  with  me/'  then, 
to  the  subject  of  their  discussion,  "I  trust.  Master 
Contempt,  you  will  accept  the  hospitality  of  myself 
and  one  other  for  a  day  or  two  at  least." 

The  youth  bowed  courteously.  ''I  thank  you," 
he  said,  and,  with  that  laugh  which  seemed  to  deride 
Fate  itself,  or,  perhaps  more  subtly,  the  listeners,  he 
added,  ''  'Tis  desirable  to  be  a  guest  now  and  then, 
instead  of  a  plaything." 

He  went  with  Vytal  to  the  secluded  house  beyond 
the  enclosure.  In  the  main  room  they  found  Mar- 
lowe sitting  at  a  table,  his  arms  thrown  out  over 
the  rough  pine  top,  his  head  resting  on  them  in  an 
attitude  of  sleep.  A  candle,  sadly  in  need  of  snuf- 
fers, flickered  across  a  page  of  manuscript  that  lay 
crumpled  in  his  hands. 

On  hearing  Vytal  enter,  the  poet  awoke  slowly; 
but,  seeing  the  face  behind  his  friend,  as  it  came 
within  the  candle-light,  he  rose  from  his  chair  with 
an  exclamation  of  surprise. 

''  The  sole  survivor/'  announced  Vytal,  "  of  our  fif- 
teen men/' 

"What!" 

"But  a  plaything,"  added  Ralph,  with  a  depreca- 
tory wave  of  his  hand.  "  A  mere  babery  for  naked 
red-boys." 

Marlowe  took  up  the  candle  and  held  it  nearer  the 
speaker's  face.  Then,  with  less  surprise  and  more 
commiseration,  "Forgive  me,"  he  said^  "for  my  un- 

134 


A  Tale   of  the  Lost  Colony 

mannerly  welcome,  but  for  the  moment  your  features 
seemed  familiar  to  me,  as  though  I  had  seen  them  in 
a  dream/' 

The  new-comer  returned  his  gaze  with  a  dazed  ex- 
pression.    "1  am  a  dream/' 

The  poet  glanced  at  Vytal  meaningly.  "  He  needs 
rest;  let  him  sleep  on  my  bed.  I  will  make  a  couch 
of  grasses  for  myself.'' 

When  finally  thej^  heard  the  regular  breathing  of 
their  guest,  who  lay  comfortably  on  Marlowe's  bed, 
Vytal  told  of  the  meeting  on  the  shore  and  of  Ralph 
Contempt's  broken  narrative. 

''Poor  devil!"  mused  the  poet.  ''He  whose  bones 
we  found  scattered  here  w^as  far  more  fortunate." 

"I  thought  I  knew  this  man's  face,"  said  Vytal. 
"  'Tis  strange  that  you,  too,  should  have  imagined 
a  recognition." 

"Nay,  it  was  but  the  eyes  that  seemed  familiar. 
Doubtless  there  are  many  like  them  of  Saxon  blue, 
blighted  by  the  undue  levity  of  a  disordered  brain. 
The  fellow,  most  like,  has  been  a  wild  thing,  little 
better  than  a  beast.  Saw  you  ever  such  a  growth 
of  hair  on  head  and  chin?" 

"No,  it  ill  becomes  the  youthful  face — the  face — " 
Vytal  paused  and  fell  again  to  thinking. 

"The  face,"  echoed  Marlowe,  looking  over  to  the 
sleeper.  "Perchance  we  saw  it  before  the  man  left 
England,  before  he  came  hither  a  year  ago  to  meet 
his  doom." 

"It  is  probable,"  allowed  Vytal;  "if,  indeed,  we 
saw  the  face  at  all. '' 


CHAPTER  XII 

That,  like  a  fox  in  midst  of  harvest  time, 
Doth  prey  upon  my  flocks  of  passengers." 

— Marlowe,  in  Tamhurlaine. 

By  noon  on  the  following  day  the  whole  colony 
had  heard  the  tale  of  a  desperate  fight  on  this  peace- 
ful island,  of  an  unimaginable,  living  death  amid 
savage  captors,  and  of  a  miraculous  deliverance. 

''He  fought  ten,  single-handed,  and  so  escaped,'' 
said  one  of  the  planters,  joining  a  number  of  his  com- 
panions, who  were  hastening  toward  VytaFs  house. 

''He  was  half  roasted,''  declared  another,  shud- 
dering, "and  prodded  with  stones  red  hot." 

"His  house,"  asserted  a  third,  "was  burned  to 
cinders  while  he  defended  it  within  this  very  clear- 
mg. 

Throughout  the  whole  morning  small  parties,  thus 
discussing  the  subject,  sought  to  gain  a  view  of  the 
man  who  filled  their  thoughts.  Inquisitively  they 
came  and,  looking  in  at  the  doorway  of  the  cabin, 
surveyed  the  youth,  who  sat  just  across  the  threshold, 
mumbling  to  himself  and  bowing  to  them  with  a 
pitiable  smile  of  welcome.  Then,  silently,  they  would 
return  to  their  various  labors,  awe-struck  and  un- 
easy. 

But  at  mid-day  there  was  a  larger  gathering  at 
Vytal's  door.  Ralph  Contempt  stood  in  the  centre 
of  the  circle,  describing  rapidly  his  misadventures 
with  a  new  grasp  of  detail  and  some  continuity  of  in- 
cident.    His  mental  powers  had  evidently  been  re- 

136 


John  Vytal:  A  Tale  of  the  Lost  Colony 

freshed  by  sleep  and  sustenance;  his  memory  now 
offered  a  more  vivid  and  coherent  depiction  of  the 
fight,  bondage,  and  escape.  His  Hsteners,  men  and 
women,  stood  enthralled  and  terrified,  the  cold  fin- 
gers of  fear  insidiously  touching  their  nerves  and 
heart-strings  to  play  the  shivering  discord  of  alarm. 
Perhaps  no  instrument  was  more  perfectly  attuned 
to  the  notes  of  apprehension  than  the  heart  of  An- 
anias Dare.  He  stood  near  the  speaker,  with  an  ill- 
disguised  attempt  to  suppress  the  terror  that,  like 
an  east  wind,  froze  his  marrow  with  an  actual  chill. 
He  was  entirely  sober,  and,  therefore,  completely  un- 
manned. His  face,  pallid  and  tense,  was  yet  beau- 
tiful, its  terror  strangely  heightening  the  effect  of 
beauty  as  though  by  a  magic  but  despicable  art. 
For  the  expression,  emasculated  by  fright,  was  re- 
membered long  after  by  those  who  had  read  the  re- 
flection of  its  fear  in  their  own  hearts.  The  shallow- 
est eye  can  express  the  deepest  apprehension;  the 
nature  devoid  of  capacity  for  all  other  intense  emo- 
tion, may  yet  be  keenly  and  desperately  subject  to 
the  power  of  fear.  The  study  of  cowardice  reveals 
peculiar  inconsistencies.  For  instance,  here  stood 
Ananias,  a  man  of  insignificant  psychal  stature,  sur- 
passing all  his  fellows  in  the  height  of  his  alarm. 
His  eyes,  often  but  vague  films  beneath  the  fumes  of 
wine,  were  now  clarified  and  made  brilliant  by  the 
horror  of  their  gaze. 

And  here,  too,  listening  to  the  narrative  of  Ralph 
Contempt,  stood  Simon  Ferdinando,  a  coward  of  an- 
other sort,  with  eyes  more  furtive  and  less  intense, 
who  seemed  already  to  consider  the  question  of  es- 
cape, while  the  other  only  remained  paralyzed  by  the 
menace  of  a  danger  that  might  at  any  time  repeat 
itself.  But  Dare  bore  unmistakable  traces  even  now 
of  gentle  birth  and  a  lost  manhood,  whereas  Ferdi- 

137 


John  Vytal 

nando  appeared  not  unlike  a  frightened  rat  looking 
for  its  hole.  The  one  inspired  contempt  and  pity, 
the  other  contempt  alone. 

And  the  man  who  called  himself  Contempt  wore 
an  expression  as  he  talked  according  well  with  the 
appellation.  Directing  his  words  and  gestures  toward 
these  two,  not  pointedly,  but  in  a  subtle  manner,  he 
so  worked  upon  them  and  all  the  others  that,  when 
his  repeated  story  of  the  massacre  was  told  and  he 
paused  breathless,  a  low,  moaning  sigh  fell  from 
many  lips,  like  the  wail  of  a  night  wind.  Then  sud- 
denly Ferdinando  cried  out:  ''To  the  ships!  To 
the  ships!  Must  we,  too,  perish  thus?  Nay!''  His 
voice  rose  to  a  high  pitch.  "  To  the  ships  and  Eng- 
land!'' 

''Ay,  ay,"  came  hoarsely  from  the  terrified  group. 

"Ay,  away  from  this  accursed  country,"  said  An- 
anias Dare,  who  at  last  had  found  voice  to  speak. 
But  a  new  look,  more  pitiable  than  all  the  weakness 
of  his  first  expression,  crossed  his  face.  "  Yet,  stay!" 
he  cried,  as  though  with  a  great  effort,  some  latent 
nobility,  the  mere  memory  of  a  dead  courage,  assert- 
ing itself. 

Ralph  Contempt  turned  to  the  others  as  if  he  had  not 
heard.  "A  huge  devil,"  he  resumed,  "brained  my 
sole  surviving  comrade  with  an  axe  of  stone,  whereat, 
dragging  me  by  the  hair,  for  I  was  bound  by  leathern 
thongs,  he  rolled  me  among  the  burning  timbers  of 
my  own  house.  Next,  another  savage — "  But  he 
was  interrupted  by  a  second  shrill  cry  from  Ferdi- 
nando : 

"Even  now  the  Indians  may  be  on  their  way; 
even  now  it  may  be  too  late!" 

"Yes,"  moaned  Ananias,  his  short-lived  courage 
failing,  "too  late." 

"To  the  ships!" 

138 


A  Tale  of  the  Lost  Colony- 
It  was  the  voice  not  of  one  man  but  of  all,  while 
panic-stricken  they  turned  and,  with  a  rush,  made 
for  the  main  enclosure  of  the  town.  Only  the  youth, 
who  had  caused  the  stampede,  delayed,  and  he,  smil- 
ing, started  to  re-enter  the  hut.  But  on  the  thresh- 
old he  paused  and  looked  back  again.  For  he 
heard  a  new  voice  rising  above  the  clamor  of  his 
retreating  audience,  a  voice  that  he  recognized  in- 
stantly. Seeing  the  men  and  women  hanging  back 
before  Vytal  himself,  who  had  met  them  at  the  nar- 
row opening  in  the  palisade,  he  returned  to  the  group 
leisurely,  his  eyes  on  the  tall  figure  and  stern  face  in 
the  gateway. 

"  How  now?''  demanded  the  soldier,  quietly.  ''  What 
means  this  panic?''  Not  one  gave  answer.  ''What 
means  it?"  The  words  came  more  sharply  than  be- 
fore. But  still  there  was  no  response,  each  being 
ready  to  cast  on  his  fellow  the  onus  of  explanation. 
And  still  they  all  hung  back,  their  eyes  cast  down. 

Vytal  looked  at  one  and  another  with  an  infinite 
scorn,  omitting  only  the  forlorn  Ananias  in  his  search- 
ing gaze;  for  a  brief  glance  at  the  governor's 
son-in-law  had  shown  him  a  figure  of  despicable 
shame. 

"No  man  enters  the  town  until  the  truth  is  told." 
And,  drawing  his  rapier,  he  waited. 

''The  bodkin  !"  muttered  Ferdinando,  who,  draw- 
ing back  to  the  outskirts  of  the  group,  sought  to  hide 
himself  from  view.  At  that  moment  Ralph  Con- 
tempt went  to  Simon  and  spoke  a  low  word  in  the 
sailing-master's  ear.  Hearing  it,  Ferdinando  started 
with  an  exclamation  of  surprise,  and  then,  in  evident 
relief,  maintained  silence,  obedient  to  the  other's 
mute  command.  On  this  the  youth,  sauntering 
unconcernedly  toward  Vytal,  spoke  that  all  might 
hear  him : 

139 


John  Vytal 


€t 


An  none  other  can  find  his  tongue,  mine  must 
needs  confess  itself  guilty/' 

His  manner  became  wandering,  and  he  passed  a 
hand  across  his  brow.  "The  tongue  is  an  unruly 
member  .  .  .  very  mischievous  ...  so  mischievous 
that  sometimes  the  painted  devils  put  cinders  on  it, 
and  the  cinders  sizzle  to  hiss  its  praj^ers.'' 

Vytal  scrutinized  the  speaker,  first  keenly,  then 
with  that  look  of  bewilderment  which  not  until  late- 
ly had  been  seen  in  the  soldier's  face. 

"  These  men  fear  a  second  massacre,''  added 
Ralph,  more  sanely,  "and  would  return  to  Eng- 
land." 

Vytal's  expression  went  darker  yet.  "Fools!"  he 
exclaimed,  and  then  with  less  severity,  as  a  grieved 
look  came  into  his  eyes,  "  I  had  not  thought  to  find 
men  turned  to  sheep — men!" 

He  emphasized  the  last  word  as  though  to  convey 
its  full  meaning  to  their  hearts.  His  face,  resolute, 
fearless,  but  more  sorrowing  now  than  scornful,  im- 
parted some  of  its  own  courage  to  those  about  him. 
Ananias  Dare,  for  one,  seemed  to  have  lost  much  of 
his  fear.  Vytal  alone  had  the  power  to  fortify  his 
faint  heart.  In  the  soldier's  presence  he  was  a  dif- 
ferent man. 

"I  strove  to  stop  them,"  he  said,  "but  the  effort 
was  vain."  Yet  still  Vytal  withheld  his  look  from 
the  assistant,  for  this  weakling,  all  unknowing,  was 
the  one  man  the  mere  sight  of  whom  could  cut  him 
to  the  quick. 

"You  will  return  to  your  duty — all  I"  It  was  not 
a  question,  but  a  quiet,  doubtless  command.  He 
stepped  aside  from  the  gateway.  One  after  another 
they  filed  past  him,  each  more  eager  than  his  pre- 
decessor to  hurry  beyond  the  paling  and  the  captain's 
view.     Ananias  Dare  and  Ferdinando  brought  up 

140 


A  Tale   of  the   Lost  Colony 

the  rear  of  this  ignominious  procession,  the  one  slow- 
ly, the  other  scurrying  hke  a  rat. 

Within  the  enclosure  they  all  separated  silently, 
each  seeming  to  desire  a  temporary  solitude  in  the 
pursuit  of  his  work. 

"They  would  defend  the  town  most  gallantly 
against  attack/'  observed  Ralph,  dryly. 

"They  ivill,"  returned  Vytal,  emphasizing  the 
change  of  tense.  "But  your  story  is  told.  They 
have  heard  enough.  You  will  strive  to  forbear  here- 
after." 

The  youth  smiled.  "Forbearance  is  my  chief 
virtue,''  and  he  went  away,  leaving  his  host  alone 
in  the  cabin. 

As  he  walked  through  the  woods  he  came  to  a  nar- 
row creek  that  ran  inland  from  the  sea ;  and,  follow- 
ing this  toward  the  shore,  he  chanced  on  a  sight  that 
caused  him  to  stop  and  smile  with  genuine  light- 
hearted  boyishness.  For  there,  in  the  middle  of  the 
shallow  stream,  her  back  toward  him,  stood  Mistress 
Gyll  Croyden,  bending  low  over  the  water.  In  one 
hand  she  held  a  forked  stick  which  now  and  again 
she  darted  viciously  into  the  muddy  bed  of  the  inlet, 
while  with  her  other  hand  she  held  her  skirts  above 
the  knee. 

"Is  it  possible,"  called  the  youth,  "that  even  a 
crab  is  so  heartless  as  to  run  away?  Now,  were 
I  the  crab — "but  her  expression,  as  she  turned, 
brought  another  peal  of  laughter  from  his  lips. 
"Yes,"  he  said,  "you  are  caught  instead  of  the 
shell-fish." 

At  this  the  smile  which  had  been  rising  to  the 
surface  of  her  eyes,  whether  she  would  or  no,  cul- 
minated in  a  laugh  as  merry  as  his  own.  She  waded 
to  the  bank.  "  My  patient  is  come  to  life  at  the  wrong 
moment;  but  sit  you  down,  pretty  boy,  and  talk  to 

141 


John   Vytal 

me.      Well?''   she  said,   dangling  a  pair  of  white 
feet  in  the  sluggish  stream — ''Well?'' 

''What  is  the  meaning  of  3'our  expectancy?"  he 
inquired,  stretcliing  himself  at  full  length  on  the 
mossy  ground.  ''  You  wait,  I  suppose,  for  a  seemly 
expression  of  gratitude.  Thank  you, -then,"  and, 
taking  her  hand,  he  kissed  it  lazily.  But  she  was 
pouting.  "  Oh,  I  am  wrong.  What  is  it,  then?  Ah, 
1  see.  You  wait  to  be  told  of  3'our  beauty,  and  how 
the  sight  of  a  maid  crabbing  is  beyond  description. 
Methinks  there's  another  will  tell  thee  that,  and  more 
besides.  I  saw  the  mountebank  to-day  ogling  thee 
with  eyes  distraught  and  bulging." 

Gyll  laughed.  "  'Tis  Roger  Prat.  He  hath  no 
thought  o'  me.     He's  all  for  the  bear  and  Vytal." 

''Ah,  well,"  said  Ralph,  ''thou'rt  not  so  wondrous 
comely.  I  tell  thee,  wench,  for  all  thy  prettiness, 
there's  one  outshines  thee  as  the  moon  a  will-o'-the- 
wisp.  Nay,  look  not  angry.  'Tis  the  governor's 
daughter.  Mistress  Dare.  I've  seen  her  at  her  win- 
dow thrice  this  very  day.  My  heart  goes  wild  of 
love  for  so  fair  a  face,  so  unobtainable  a  damsel." 

At  this  Gyll  made  a  wry  face.  "Pah!  she  loses 
her  beauty  quickly.  AVhen  we  set  out  from  Eng- 
land she  was  fairer  far  than  now.  I  saw  her  go 
aboard  at  Plj^mouth." 

"Ay,"  laughed  Ralph,  "she  was  3^ounger,  but  her 
face  lacked  its  present  fire  in  the  London  days." 
What!"  cried  Gyll,  "3-ou  saw  her  there?" 
Nay,  nay,"  he  returned  quickly,  "  'tis  a  delusion 
of  my  addled  brain." 

She  looked  down  at  his  incongruous  beard,  and 
then  into  the  youthful  eyes  indulgently.  "Poor 
boy!" 

"Poor  boy!"  he  echoed.  "You  call  me  nothing 
but  'poor  boy.'" 

142 


4t 
it 


A  Tale   of  the   Lost  Colony 


it 


Nay,  nay,  your  Majesty/'  she  contradicted,  mock- 
ing his  assumed  haughtiness.  ''When  have  I  said 
such  a  thing  before?'' 

''Was   it  not  when  I — "      But  Ralph  hesitated. 
"Oh  no,  perhaps  not,"  he  added,  quickly,  and  ram- 
bled back  to  the  praise  of  her  appearance. 
'     "If  your  Majesty  will  permit  me,"  she  said,  com- 
placently, "I  will  pull  on  my  stockings." 

To  this  he  made  a  strange  rejoinder.  "Mistress 
Croyden,  you  are  a  prophetess,  a  sibyl  who  reads 
the  future." 

She  looked  at  him  questioningly,  with  a  kind  con- 
cern, believing  him  again  bereft  of  reason.  "Be- 
cause I  predict  the  donning  of  my  hose?  Is  it,  then, 
so  easy  to  be  a  prophetess?"  She  picked  up  a  pair 
of  red  stockings  and  wound  them  about  her  fingers. 

"Consider  that  the  premonition  an  you  will,"  he 
replied,  knowingly.  " 'Tis  perhaps  as  fruitful." 
He  seemed  to  delight  for  the  moment  in  propound- 
ing, by  voice  and  look,  an  enigma.  But  in  the  next 
instant  he  meandered  on  after  his  usual  manner, 
with  flattery  and  idle  jests. 

In  the  evening,  Gyll,  meeting  Marlowe  in  the  town, 
pronounced  Master  Ralph  Contempt  hopelessly  in- 
sane. "Or,"  she  added,  "a  knavish  actor,  who  de- 
mands more  sympathy  than  he  merits,  for  he  heard 
me  say  '  poor  boy '  when  we  thought  him  lifeless  in  a 
swoon.  But  he  is  a  '  poor  boy '  for  a'  that.  Think 
of  the  tortures!" 

Following  this,  three  days  went  by  without  incident, 
and  still  Hugh  Rouse  and  Roger  Prat,  stationed  at 
the  southern  end  of  the  island  as  outposts,  gave  no 
warning. 

Vytal  changed.  His  taciturnity,  which  had  in- 
creased of  late,  was  broken  more  often  as  the  danger 

143 


John     Vytal 

became  imminent.  His  impassive  face,  in  which  only 
Marlowe  could  read  the  quietude  of  self-restraint, 
grew  eager  with  the  anticipation  of  an  actual,  tan- 
gible conflict  between  right  and  wrong.  Here  was 
a  condition  all-absorbing,  and,  above  all,  a  condition 
the  soldier  could  meet  face  to  face  with  comprehen- 
sion. He  could  cope  with  this,  at  least.  The  spirit 
of  action,  always  ready  to  assert  itself  in  him,  but 
sometimes  of  necessity  repressed,  finally  had  become 
paramount  again,  once  more  to  resume  full  sway. 
His  step  became  lighter,  his  deep  blue  eyes  less  cold, 
and  many,  noting  the  alteration,  wondered,  only 
the  veteran  soldiers  and  the  poet  dimly  understand- 
ing their  leader's  change. 

"My  brother,  they  approach.''  It  was  the  Indian 
who,  having  again  reconnoitred,  vouchsafed  this 
information  on  the  fourth  day  after  the  advent  of 
Ralph  Contempt. 

Late  in  the  evening,  Vytal  started  homeward  to  seek 
Marlowe.  The  night  was  dark  and  still,  as  though 
Fate,  with  finger  to  lips,  had  set  a  seal  of  silence  on 
the  world,  which  the  distant  surf  and  a  slow  rainfall 
on  the  sea  of  leaves  intensified  monotonously.  But 
a  new  sound  suddenly  broke  the  stillness.  A  cry, 
a  single  cry — plaintive,  feeble,  and  unutterably  dole- 
ful— then  a  silence  even  deeper  than  before.  Vytal, 
pausing  near  the  palisade,  looked  up  at  the  dwelling 
of  John  White.  A  rabbit,  startled  by  the  sound  of 
the  cry,  darted  across  his  pathway  into  the  woods. 
An  owl,  high  above  him,  answered  the  voice  with  a 
wailing  screech.  A  deer,  that  had  been  watching  his 
approach  beyond  the  gate,  ran  away  timidly  through 
the  forest.  He  remembered  all  this  long  afterward — 
the  white  flash  of  the  rabbit,  the  owl's  response,  the 
rustling  of  leaves  as  the  deer  withdrew. 

He  waited.      Again  the  cry,  louder,  but  none  the 

144 


A  Tale    of  the  Lost   Colony 

less  pitiful  and  lonely.  The  muscles  of  his  face  grew 
tense,  the  veins  big  like  whipcords.  He  turned, 
as  though  to  lean  against  the  paling,  but  then,  as 
with  a  strenuous  effort,  refused  even  that  support, 
and  stood  motionless  like  stone. 

And  now,  as  a  side  door  directly  before  him  opened, 
a  flood  of  light  fell  across  the  pathway  from  within. 
It  shone  in  a  pool  of  rain  at  his  feet,  and  played  about 
his  drawn  face  with  profane  curiosity.  Ananias 
Dare  stood  in  the  doorway  looking  at  him.  But  sud- 
denly the  assistant  lurched  back,  and,  snatching  a 
silver  cup  from  the  table  behind  him,  brought  it  out, 
with  reeling,  splashing  footsteps,  to  Vytal. 

''Drink,''  he  mumbled,  thicklj^.  ''Drink,  good 
my  captain,  to  the  health  of  my  first-born  child !  A 
toast,  sir,  to  my  daughter — a  deep  toast,  a  very  deep 
toast — to  the  first  English  child — the  first, mark  you — 
is  it  not  a  great  honor? — the  first  English  child  born 
in  America — world-wide  America!''  He  stood,  all 
unheedful  of  the  rain,  bareheaded  and  half  dressed, 
swaying  as  though  at  any  minute  he  might  fall  to 
the  wet  ground. 

He  offered  the  cup  to  Vyial.  His  hand  shook,  and 
the  troubled  wine  overflowed  the  brim.  "Drink," 
he  repeated,  laughing  hilariously.  "Such  a  toast, 
such  a  child!  You've  heard  her  voice  already. 
Damn  it !     Drink !     Will  you  ?" 

For  an  instant  Vj^tal's  face  went  livid  with  a  fury 
no  man  had  ever  seen  there  until  now.  He  clinched 
his  fists ;  the  nails  bit  into  the  palms.  "  Desecrator ! " 
And  in  another  minute  he  was  groping  his  way 
through  the  darkness  toward  the  gate,  until,  finding 
the  path,  his  step  became  firm  and  regular  on  the 
hard  earth,  as  though  he  were  marching,  then  died 
away  slowly  in  the  woods. 
K  145 


CHAPTER  XIII 

"With  hair  that  gilds  the  water  as  it  gUdes 
And  .  .  . 
One  Hke  Actseon  peeping  through  the  grove." 

— Marlowe,  in  Edward  the  Second. 

Weeks  passed,  and  still  the  Spanish,  for  some 
unaccountable  reason,  delayed  their  invasion. 

At  noon  on  the  last  day  of  August,  Vytal,  accom- 
panied by  Manteo,  started  southward  on  a  short 
reconnoissance.  Before  going,  he  left  strict  injunc- 
tions with  Marlowe  to  admit  none  to  the  fortress  save 
those  who  knew  the  countersign.  He  had  left  the 
poet,  who  was  now  well  skilled  in  military  methods, 
to  maintain  a  watchful  guard  in  the  absence  of  Hugh 
Rouse  and  Roger  Prat.  Furthermore,  he  gave  Dy- 
onis  Harvie  positive  orders  to  preserve  a  similar  cau- 
tion respecting  the  Admiral  and  fly-boat,  of  which 
the  worthy  mate  was  now  temporarily  in  command. 

On  receiving  this  instruction,  the  seaman  scratched 
his  head  in  perplexity.  "There  is  one  who  pesters 
me,''  he  said,  ''with  importunate  demands  to  come 
aboard,  and  as  he  is  but  a  harmless  lunatic — poor 
soul! — who  says  he  longs  to  be  on  the  deck  of  an 
English  ship,  and  to  imagine  himself  homeward 
bound,  perhaps  you  will  not  refuse  him.'' 

''You  speak  of  Master  Ralph  Contempt?" 

"Yes." 

"Even  to  him  make  no  exception.  Admit  one, 
admit  all.  Only  the  few  who  know  our  sign  must 
learn  the  condition  of  these  vessels. " 

146 


John  Vytal:  A  Tale  of  the  Lost  Colony 

"And  Simon  Ferdinando?" 

"  For  the  form's  sake  you  cannot  question  his  au- 
thority. But  he  is  well  watched/'  and  Vytal  rowed 
back  to  the  shore.     Here  he  met  Marlowe. 

"Our  guest/'  said  the  poet,  "even  now  seeks  ad- 
mittance to  the  fortress,  longing,  he  pitifully  declares, 
for  the  sight  of  weapons  that  can  avenge  his  com- 
rades' lives." 

"It  is  hard  to  forbid  him  entrance,"  returned  the 
soldier,  "but  there  must  be  no  exception.  The  ex- 
ample is  needed  to  maintain  secrecy;"  with  which 
Vytal  joined  Manteo  in  the  woods. 

Marlowe  stood  for  a  moment  watching  him,  and 
then,  turning,  caught  sight  of  another  figure  even 
more  of  interest  than  his  friend's.  Eleanor  Dare 
was  walking  alone  on  the  shore.  He  started  forward 
impulsively  to  join  her,  but,  remembering  Ralph 
Contempt,  whom  he  had  left  at  the  entrance  of  the 
fortress,  he  returned  to  enforce  the  rule.  Ralph, 
however,  no  longer  awaited  him.  Having  stood 
idly,  first  on  one  foot,  then  on  the  other,  looking  plain- 
tively into  the  stolid  eyes  of  an  armed  sentinel,  the 
youth,  his  patience  exhausted,  had  wandered,  with 
an  apparent  aimlessness,  down  to  the  sea.  At  the 
water's  edge  he  stepped  into  a  barge,  and,  with  a  long 
pole  pushing  the  cumbrous  craft  out  to  the  Admiral, 
once  more  accosted  Dyonis  Harvie.  But,  as  the  mate 
proved  obdurate,  he  returned  again,  looking  off  now 
and  then  to  the  southward  as  he  went  back  leisure- 
ly to  land. 

Then  an  unexpected  circumstance  favored  him. 
He  left  the  barge  and  struck  inland  behind  the 
town.  Once  within  shelter  of  the  forest,  he  has- 
tened by  a  circuitous  route  through  almost  impene- 
trable undergrowth  to  a  point  directly  behind  but 
about  a  mile  to  the  south  of  the  fortress.     Here  a 

147 


John  Vytal 

stream,  secluded  from  the  sight  of  any  one  not  on  its 
immediate  margin,  met  his  view.  It  was  the  con- 
tinuation of  the  inlet  in  which  Mistress  Croyden  had 
been  crabbing. 

To  his  surprise,  a  canoe  of  birch-bark,  a  single  pad- 
dle in  the  bottom,  floated  idly,  nosing  the  bank,  and 
farther  on,  to  his  yet  greater  astonishment,  a  small 
heap  of  clothing  lay  on  the  sprawling  roots  of  an  oak- 
tree.  He  examined  the  apparel,  and  found  a  woman's 
linen  undergarments,  a  long  frock,  kirtle,  and  richly 
garnished  stomacher.  Fearing  that  some  foul  play 
had  befallen  the  wearer,  he  glanced  about  him,  not 
without  alarm.  The  spot,  utterly  sequestered,  and 
only  approached  by  the  inlet,  or  with  much  difficulty, 
as  he  had  approached  it,  by  the  woods,  offered  ade- 
quate concealment  for  deeds  of  violence. 

But  suddenly  he  heard  a  splashing  sound  from  the 
near  distance,  and  the  expression  of  his  eyes  as  they 
looked  through  the  foliage  to  a  bend  in  the  stream, 
some  fifty  yards  farther  inland,  changed  instantly. 
For  there  w^as  Mistress  Croyden,  all  unheedful  of  his 
proximity,  disporting  herself  to  her  heart's  content, 
the  silver  ripples  of  the  water  forming  an  adequate 
covering  for  all  save  her  head,  which  glistened  in 
the  sunlight,  a  pond-lily  of  white  and  gold. 

Ralph  hurried  forward  along  the  border  of  the 
woods  until  he  came  within  easy  speaking  distance  of 
the  bather.  A  curtain  of  leaves  hung  before  him,  but 
through  the  interstices  he  could  see  her  plainly  as 
she  melted  like  a  water-nymph  into  the  bosom  of  the 
stream.  His  eyes  shone;  his  lips  parted  as  though 
he  would  have  called  to  her,  but  hesitating,  with  a 
new  consideration  in  which  she  was  evidently  not 
the  foremost  subject,  he  returned  silently  to  the  oak 
about  which  the  clothes  were  scattered.  Stooping,  he 
picked  up  all  the  garments,  and,  re-entering  the  forest, 

148 


A  Tale   of  the    Lost  Colony 

hid  them  beneath  the  underbrush  far  within  its  shade. 
Then,  with  a  smile  almost  mischievous  in  his  boyish 
enjoyment  of  the  proceeding,  he  made  his  way  hastily 
to  the  town.  On  coming  to  the  fortress  he  hallooed 
loudly  and  called  to  Marlowe  as  if  in  impatience  and 
alarm. 

The  poet,  who  had  relieved  the  sentinel,  and  was 
seated,  reading,  near  the  door,  came  out  hurriedly. 
But  before  he  could  inquire  concerning  the  other's 
clamor,  Ralph,  trembling  with  a  well-assumed  ex- 
citement, pointed  wildly  in  quite  the  opposite  direction 
from  which  he  had  come,  and  seemed  to  strive  the 
while  vainly  for  utterance.  IVIarlowe,  catching  much 
of  his  excitement,  nevertheless  bade  him  compose 
himself  and  speak.  In  this  the  youth  finally  suc- 
ceeded. 

"  They  have  taken  her,''  he  said,  lowering  his  voice 
that  no  chance  passer-by  might  hear;  ''they  have 
taken  her  as  they  took  me,  by  the  hair  of  the  head. 
Oh,  she  will  be  a  plaything — it  is  very  sad." 

The  vagueness  of  the  announcement  only  added 
to  Marlowe's  disquiet.     "Who?     Where?" 

"  Oh,  they  have  dragged  her  off.  I  saw  them,  the 
red  devils,  at  the  northeast  end  of  the  island.  The 
game  is  to  be  played  again."  The  words  seemed 
fraught  with  an  under-meaning,  but  to  the  excited 
listener  there  was  no  change.  "The  game  is  to  be 
plaj^ed,"  repeated  Ralph,  now  in  a  dreary  monotone, 
"with  Cxyll  Croyden." 

"Gyll  Croyden — Gjdl!"  And  the  imiDetuous  poet, 
beside  himself  with  alarm,  not  stopping  to  hear  an- 
other word,  rushed  away.  When  he  had  passed 
through  the  north  gate  of  the  palisade,  Ralph  Con- 
tempt, who  had  watched  his  headlong  pursuit,  turned, 
with  an  amused  look,  and  entered  the  fortress.  In 
its  main  apartment,  a  long  mess-room  that  served 

149 


John  Vytal 

also  as  an  armory,  he  found  a  small  company  of  sol- 
diers, who  sat  about  in  groups  playing  at  cards  and 
''tables/'"'  Believing  that  Marlowe  had  admitted 
him,  they  made  no  remonstrance,  and  soon  he  was 
throwing  dice  and  jesting  with  the  merriest,  his 
eyes  roving  now  and  then  over  the  massive  oaken 
walls  and  stacked  muskets. 

But  as  there  was  no  great  show  of  weapons  here, 
he  grew  listless  and  unheedful  of  the  game.  The 
heavier  pieces,  if  such  there  were,  must  be  elsewhere. 

Laying  down  his  dice-cup  with  a  yawn,  he  saun- 
tered into  the  hallway,  closing  the  mess-room  door 
behind  him.  But  here  he  started  back  quickly,  as 
though  to  return  to  the  armory,  for  some  one  who 
had  just  entered  the  fort  was  approaching  him  with 
light  footsteps.  Recognizing  the  tread  as  a  wom- 
an's, however,  he  went  forward  more  easilv  and  met 
the  new-comer  in  the  middle  of  the  hall.  The  light, 
coming  from  the  door  behind,  threw  out  her  figure 
in  relief,  but  failed  to  reveal  her  face.  In  the  next 
instant,  though,  when  his  eyes  had  become  accus- 
tomed to  the  glare  of  the  entrance,  he  started  back 
more  suddenly  but  less  perceptibly  than  before. 
Then,  quickly  regaining  his  comjDosure,  he  bowed 
low  as  to  a  woman  and  a  stranger. 

As  the  light  from  the  doorway  fell  full  upon  his 
face,  it  became  the  other's  turn  to  show  surj^rise. 
Instinctively  she  recoiled,  a  world  of  meaning  mem- 
ory in  her  hazel  eyes.     But  he  gave  no  sign  of  notice. 

'"Tis  Mistress  Eleanor  Dare,  I  think,"  he  said, 
with  a  courtly  deference.  ''She  hath  been  well  de- 
scribed by  all.  These  colonists  laud  her  to  the  skies. 
Moreover,  I  have  watched  her  many  times  from  be- 
neath her  window." 

*  Backgammon. 


A  Tale   of  the    Lost  Colony 

"  Your  name,  sir?''  The  voice  contained  no  recog- 
nition or  repulsion  now,  but  only  a  natural  inquiry. 

"Ralph  Contempt,  yours  to  be  commanded/' 

"Ah,  Master  Ralph  Contempt,  of  whom  I  have 
heard  much  lately.  The  sole  survivor  of  that  brave 
company  which  perished." 

"Madam,"  he  returned,  in  a  lower  tone  of  double 
meaning,  "I,  too,  may  perish." 

"  Why,  sir,  what  mean  you?  Are  you  not  safe  and 
sound  among  your  countrymen?"  There  was  an 
accusatory  stress  on  the  last  word,  but  he  only  an- 
swered with  a  shrug  of  his  shoulders,  and  reassumed 
his  old,  wandering  manner. 

"Are  you,  too,"  he  asked,  vaguely,  "a  dream,  as 
I  am?  But  oh,  how  different!  Your  eyes  fire  my 
brain,  madam.  Women  have  offered  to  die  for  me — " 
he  was  running  on  now  with  a  wild  impetuosity — 
"  it  is  refreshing  to  meet  one  at  least  for  whom  I  my- 
self would  die." 

She  turned  to  him  with  a  look  of  intense  hatred  and 
repugnance,  but  it  died  suddenly;  and,  smiling,  so 
that  he  might  see  the  smile,  whereas  the  scorn  had 
been  concealed,  she  retreated  slowly  toward  the  door. 
He  hesitated  for  a  moment,  seeming  to  be  drawn 
two  ways,  then  followed  her.  Once  outside  the  for- 
tress she  sat  down  upon  a  rusty  caliver  which  had 
been  found  among  the  debris  of  the  first  settlement — 
sat  down  and  waited,  fearing  doubtfully  that  her 
magnetism  might  not  avail  to  bring  him  even  to  so 
short  a  distance  from  the  secrets  of  the  fort.  But  the 
chape  of  his  scabbard  grated  on  the  threshold,  and 
in  a  minute  he  stood  bending  over  her  with  ardent 
eyes,  yet  evidently  against  his  will.  Youthful  in- 
souciance, which,  warring  with  a  certain  haughti- 
ness and  scorn,  played  so  often  across  his  features, 
had  left  him  a  suppliant  before  her,  yet  a  suppliant 

151 


John  Vytal 

who  would,  she  felt,  as  a  last  resort,  throw  supplica- 
tion to  the  winds. 

"  Since  the  description/'  he  said,  "  I  have  dreamed 
of  you  often/' 

The  square  before  the  fortress  was  now  deserted, 
a  large  crowd  having  followed  Marlowe  in  his  ex- 
cited quest,  for,  despite  her  unpleasant  notoriety, 
Gyll  Croyden  was  by  no  means  unpopular  in  the  col- 
ony. The  women  might  shake  their  heads  and, 
justly  enough,  gossip  as  they  would,  but  the  men 
had  been  glad  now  to  take  up  arms  and  go  in  search 
of  her.  And  with  many  it  was  but  the  spirit  of  com- 
radeship that  inspired  them. 

''  My  queen  V  The  two  words  came  in  a  low  whis- 
per, nevertheless  with  all  the  colossal  self-assurance 
by  which  the  youth,  now  known  as  Ralph  Contempt, 
was  long  remembered. 

The  effrontery  almost  caused  Eleanor  to  lose  her 
hold  on  him.  She  rose  from  the  cannon  as  though, 
in  all  the  majesty  of  her  pure  womanhood,  to  smite 
and  cast  him  from  her  with  a  mere  glance  from  the 
very  eyes  that  held  him  spellbound.  But  she  real- 
ized instinctively  that  this  man  must  at  all  costs  be 
kept  her  prisoner  mitil  the  return  of  Vytal.  She 
felt  sure  that  he  had  come  as  a  spy  from  the  Spanish 
ranks,  and  that,  if  he  were  allowed  to  rejoin  them, 
it  must  mean  disaster.  She  did  not  know  how  far 
he  had  unravelled  VytaFs  plan,  or  how  deeply  he  had 
penetrated  the  secrets  of  the  ships  and  fortress.  The 
welfare  of  the  whole  colony,  however,  seemed  at  stake, 
and  she  must  play  for  it  against  a  keen,  resourceful 
opponent.  This  realization,  quick-born  and  vivid, 
though  formless,  caused  her  to  sink  down  once  more 
breathlessly  to  the  caliver.  And  then  a  deeper  shade 
of  trouble  crossed  her  face.  It  was  the  look  of  a 
penitent  who  seeks  forgiveness  before  some  invisible 

152 


A  Tale   of  the    Lost  Colony 

tribunal,  with  the  justifying  excuse  of  unblemished 
innocence.  She  knew  that  in  her  heart  the  judge's 
name  was  Vytal,  and  that  to  him  alone  she  was 
answering:  "It  is  for  our  colony — our  colony/' 
Her  mind  kept  repeating  this,  feverishly,  for  thus 
she  always  spoke  of  the  settlement  to  herself.  That 
night,  long  months  ago,  when  she  had  led  Vytal  to 
Ananias,  and  had  fought  against  her  shame  in  order 
to  reveal  her  husband's  condition — for  had  not  her 
duty  to  the  colony  demanded  instant  action? — that 
night  saw  the  beginning  of  her  sacrifice. 

But  the  word  "  sacrifice  "  was  not  now  in  her  mind. 
It  is  rarely  those  who  name  a  crisis  that  live  up  to 
its  demands.  The  details  of  the  moment  must  be 
paramount ;  the  troubling,  perplexing  flux  of  thought 
on  thought,  act  on  act,  seeming  chaotic  in  their  on- 
rush, must  blind  a  person  to  the  perfect  whole. 

"My  queen!" 

She  raised  her  eyes  and  looked  into  his  own.  He 
grasped  her  hand.  For  an  instant,  as  a  last  resort, 
she  thought  of  alarming  the  soldiers,  the  dull  mur- 
mur of  whose  voices  reached  her  from  within.  But 
recognizing  the  folly  of  an  outcry — for  he  could  read- 
ily have  escaped  within  the  forest — she  forbore  to 
give  alarm,  and  only  sat  there,  her  head  drooping, 
for  the  moment  seeming  to  yield.  To  voice  her  en- 
couragement was  impossible.  While  she  could  force 
herself  to  remain  impassive,  by  look  and  gesture 
drawing  on  herself  his  sudden,  passionate  avowal, 
she  could  by  no  means  bring  a  word  of  answer  to  her 
lips.  Fortunately,  he  seemed  content  for  the  mo- 
ment with  his  own  reckless  wooing,  and  so  she  mere- 
ly listened  and  met  his  eyes — met  his  eyes  without 
remonstrance — that  was  all,  and  yet  to  her  it  meant 
that  her  heart  was  guilty  of  a  lie. 

At  length  he  would  have  had  her  go  with  him  "  for 

153 


John  Vytal 

a  walk/'  he  said, "  within  the  silent  forest  of  dreams." 
But  to  this  she  could  not  bring  herself,  even  though 
it  would  have  beguiled  him  from  the  fort  and  vessels. 

"  Nay/'  she  replied,  "  we  are  alone  here.'' 

''But  I  have  dreamed  of  you/'  he  persisted,  "as 
walking  beside  me,  j^our  hand  in  mine,  through  a 
vista  of  green  and  gold.  And  I  dreamed  that  we 
stood  on  the  brink  of  a  silver  stream — stood,  oh,  so 
long — until  at  last  I  carried  you  across.  Yet,  be- 
fore that,  I  had  called  3'Ou  queen — Queen  of  England 
— was  it  not  strange?  But  3^ou  broke  my  heart  by 
refusing  to  call  me  king.     Come." 

She  laughed,  with  desperate  coquetry.  "  And  for 
a  whimsical  dream  must  we  lose  ourselves  in  the 
gloomy  forest?" 

He  grew  restless.  "To  the  shore,  then.  Per- 
chance the  river  should  have  been  the  sea.  I  did  not 
read  the  dream  aright.  It  must,  indeed,  have  meant 
the  sea,  else  wherefore  the  King  and  Queen  of  Eng- 
land?" 

"No,"  she  answered,  forcing  a  pout  to  her  lips. 
"The  sound  of  the  surf  oppresses  me.  Have  you 
not  more  faith  in  the  music  of  your  voice?  I  had 
not  supposed  3^ou  lacked  self-confidence." 

"Until  now  nor  had  I  supposed  so."  He  kissed 
her  hand,  which  was  cold  and  lifeless.     "  But  now — " 

"You  do  not  realize,"  she  interposed,  striving 
strenuously  to  fight  down  the  meaning  regret  in  her 
voice,  "how  much  I  have  given  you."  At  this  he 
seized  her  hand  again,  to  cover  it  with  kisses,  and, 
growing  more  bold,  bent  down  to  kiss  her  lips;  but 
she  recoiled  quickly,  and,  eluding  him,  stepped  back 
until  the  cannon  lay  between  them.  Then  she  forced 
herself  to  laugh. 

He  vaulted  over  the  caliver.  "Even  this  great 
piece,"  he  cried,  "although  it  were  ready  primed, 

154 


A  Tale    of  the    Lost   Colony 

could  scarce  deter  me/'  and,  seizing  both  of  her 
hands,  he  leaned  down  to  repeat  his  first  attempt. 
But  she  hung  her  head,  and  his  lips  only  brushed 
the  velvet  of  her  cap.  Then,  raising  her  eyes  to  his, 
by  sheer  force  of  will  she  dominated  his  desire,  held 
it  in  check,  yet  kindled  it  the  more. 

"Stay,''  she  objected,  calmly,  ''you  little  com- 
prehend the  ways  of  women;  they  must  be  wooed 
before  they  can  be  won.'' 

He  started  back  with  an  impatient  gesture.  "  They 
can  w^ait,  then,  to  be  wooed,"  and,  turning,  he  w^ould 
have  re-entered  the  fortress. 

Had  she  lost  him?  Must  the  humiliation  of  it  all 
be  bitterly  deepened  by  failure?  No.  She  felt  her 
woman's  power,  her  tingling  wit  and  intuitive  diplo- 
macy rise  quickly  to  meet  the  crisis.  "  I  pray  you, 
do  not  go.  Master  Contempt.  Have  I  been  so  very 
unkind?" 

He  turned  back  smiling,  his  self-conceit  actually 
leading  him  to  believe  that  his  own  little  ruse  of  ap- 
parent indifference  had  worked  success. 

A  bold,  flashing  plan  came  to  her.  She  would 
play  upon  the  man's  two  conflicting  desires  at  one 
and  the  same  time.  A  double  spell  must  shackle 
him. 

''I  have  it,"  she  suggested,  in  a  yielding  voice. 
"  Let  us  row  out  to  the  Admiral,  and  pretend  we  have 
left  this  dangerous  land  for  good  and  all." 

His  eyes  sparkled.  Fortune  had  showered  him 
with  favors.  He  felt  less  compunction  now  in  mak- 
ing love.  She  little  knew,  he  thought,  how  oppor- 
tunely her  suggestion  came.  He  even  feigned  re- 
luctance for  the  moment,  to  hide  the  eagerness  of  his 
steps. 

They  walked  to  the  shore. 

"1  have  not  been  on  board  my  father's  ship,"  she 

155 


John  Vytal 

told  him,  ''since  we  landed  in  the  fly- boat.  You 
have  heard,  no  doubt,  of  our  mishaps?'' 

''Yes,  Fve  heard/'  There  was  a  twinkle  in  his 
eye.  "But  one  thing  I  know  not,  and  that  is  the 
countersign.  I  fear  Dyonis  Harvie  will  forbid  me 
the  ship." 

She  laughed.  "  Nay,  he  is  my  tire-woman's  hus- 
band.    You  shall  see." 

In  a  few  minutes  they  were  under  the  AdniiraVs 
side,  and  in  one  more  she  had  mounted  to  the  deck. 

"It  is  against  Captain  Vytal's  orders,"  expostu- 
lated the  mate,  as  Ralph  followed  her,  "Under 
your  favor.  Master  Contempt  must  stay  beliind." 

But  the  youth  was  already  beside  them.  "Nay, 
Dyonis,"  remonstrated  Eleanor.  "You  forget  'tis 
the  governor's  daughter  who  brings  him." 

"I  ask  your  pardon.  Mistress  Dare;  but  'tis  not 
that  I  forget  too  easily;  it  is  that  I  remember  well  a 
positive  command."  And  he  made  as  though  to 
assist  the  subject  of  their  talk  down  into  the  barge 
again. 

"How  now?"  she  demanded,  imperiously.  "Are 
any  save  my  father's  orders  superior  to  mine  own? 
I  had  not  looked  to  find  my  maid-servant's  husband 
so  disloyal." 

At  this  the  poor  seaman  wavered  on  the  horns  of  a 
dilemma.  Against  Mistress  Dare,  of  all  the  colony, 
he  could  not  persist  further,  for  she  was  regarded 
already  as  a  kind  of  queen  in  the  little  settlement, 
who  had  shown  kindness  to  the  very  humblest  in 
sickness  and  distress,  and  was  above  all  others  most 
readily  obeyed. 

Harvie  scratched  his  head.  "You  will  explain, 
I  pray,  to  Captain  Vytal." 

"I  will  explain." 

The  mate  walked    away  mumbling  to    himself. 

156 


A  Tale    of  the    Lost  Colony 

Whereat,  turning  with  a  laugh  of  feigned  deHght 
and  mischief,  Eleanor  led  her  companion  to  the  room 
of  state.  ''  It  is  here/'  she  said,  "  that  the  king  should 
hold  his  court.  And,  besides,  I  am  anxious  to  in- 
spect the  chamber  in  which  my  poor  father  used  to 
sit,  head  in  hands,  hoping  against  hope  for  my  safe 
arrival.''  She  paused.  "Furthermore,  there  is  wine 
within  of  a  rare  vintage." 

"Wine,"  he  said,  eagerly  —  "golden  wine.  We 
shall  drink  to  our  realm,  to  the  England  I  pictured 
in  my  dreams.     But  no,  first,  first  to  our  love." 

She  felt  his  breath  hot  against  her  cheek.  "  And 
to  solitude,"  she  added,  with  an  under-meaning  in 
her  thoughts.  Then,  daringlj^,  for  the  game  at  mo- 
ments carried  her  away,  "To  an  immemorial  cap- 
tivity in  the  room  of  state." 

He  had,  however,  thrown  caution  to  the  winds, 
being,  as  he  believed,  at  the  very  threshold  of  a 
double  goal.  Nevertheless,  as  they  entered  the  long 
apartment,  he  assumed  his  old,  pitiable  air.  "  It  is 
cruel,"  he  said,  "to  mention  captivity  to  one  who, 
having  but  just  escaped  so  fell  a  slavery,  is  again 
in  direst  bondage." 

"It  was  thoughtless,"  she  allowed,  with  subtle 
truth,  "and  reprehensible  to  talk  of  victory  when 
as  yet  we  have  neither  of  us  won." 

He  strove  to  encircle  her  waist  with  his  arm,  but 
once  more,  as  if  with  natural  coquetry,  she  eluded 
him.  "Not  yet  won?"  he  whispered,  passionately. 
"It  is  won;  it  shall  be  won — and  by  me." 

"Nay,  sir,  not  so  fast.  You  forget  the  wine;  it 
is  there."  She  pointed  to  a  heavy  sideboard  of  black 
oak  near  the  wall,  at  the  same  time  taking  a  silver 
flagon  from  the  table. 

"Ah,  the  golden  wine!" 

He  went  to  the  sideboard,  and,  kneeling  with  his 

157 


John  Vytal 

back  toward  her,  thrust  a  hand  across  the  shelf  of  a 
lower  cupboard.  Finding  a  dusty  bottle  in  the  cor- 
ner, he  withdrew  it.  ''  'Tis  as  old/'  he  said,  closing 
the  doors  and  surve^ang  the  film  of  cobwebs,  ''as 
old  as  our  love  is  new.  Come,  dearest — ''  but,  on 
turning,  he  broke  off  suddenly. 

The  flash  of  a  white  ruff,  the  soft  whisper  of  slip- 
pers across  a  rug,  and  he  was  alone — a  prisoner. 

But  then — even  then,  as  the  key  grated  in  the  lock 
— he  laughed  like  a  boy  who  has  been  caught  in  a 
game  of  blind-man's-buff  or  hide-and-seek.  Even 
in  the  first  moment  of  his  plight,  amusement  and 
an  uncontrollable  sense  of  the  ludicrous  sparkled  in 
his  blue  eyes.  Impulsively  knocking  off  the  bottle's 
neck  against  the  sideboard,  he  picked  up  a  silver 
cup  which  had  rolled  to  his  feet  from  the  cabin  door 
and  filled  it  to  the  brim. 

"You  remembered  me,''  he  reflected,  sipping  the 
wine  with  a  too-apparent  relish  as  though  acting  to 
himself.  ''  You  remembered  me.  That  is  one  point 
gained." 

In  the  meanwhile,  Eleanor  Dare,  on  the  deck, 
was  graciously  explaining  to  Dyonis  her  apparent 
unreasonableness  and  breach  of  discipline.  ''You 
will  guard  the  door  until  relieved."  And  so  saying, 
she  returned  in  her  barge  to  the  shore. 

Early  in  the  evening,  Vytal,  re-entering  the  town, 
was  surprised  to  find  her  evidently  awaiting  him  at 
the  fort. 

"The  man,"  she  exclaimed,  breathlessly,  without 
any  prelude  of  greeting,  "  the  man  you  fought  with 
on  the  bridge  is  here!" 

"Frazer?" 

"Yes,  Frazer,  known  lately  as  Ralph  Contempt." 

A  sharp,  sudden  comprehension,  all  the  keener 
for  having  been  so  long  deferred,  sprang  into  the  sol- 

158 


A  Tale    of  the    Lost  Colony 

dier's  face.  "  'Twas  to  set  him  aland  that  the  Span- 
ish vessel  anchored  to  the  southward.  I  knew  the 
boy's  e3^es.     'Twas  his  heavy  beard  deceived  me.'" 

She  smiled.  ''A  woman  knows  from  the  heart/' 
she  said,  "while  a  man's  head  aches  with  perplex- 
ity. And,  besides,  whereas  he  only  fought  with  you, 
me  he  insulted.''  Her  cheeks  flushed,  her  eyes  re- 
vealing the  pure  hatred  and  anger  they  had  so  long 
been  forced  to  mask  with  smiles. 

The  look  fired  Vytal's  blood.  But,  following  his  first 
silent  fury,  an  expression  which  had  never  yet  been 
in  his  eyes  changed  them  to  those  of  a  wounded  ani- 
mal, and  he  seemed  for  the  moment  almost  ashamed. 
The  thought  had  cut  him  cruelly  that  his  worst  en- 
emies on  earth  were  a  mere  careless  stripling  and  a 
shallow  drunkard,  with  not  even  the  boy's  bravery 
to  commend  him  as  a  foe.  There  are  a  few  men  who 
regret  the  lack  of  noble  power  in  an  enemy  as  deeply 
as  the  many  deplore  its  non-existence  in  a  friend. 
Where  is  he?" 

I  have  imprisoned  him  in  the  Adiniral." 
You!" 

Yes."  Her  look  had  a  strange  penitence  in  it 
and  no  triumph.  He  dimly  understood  the  reason, 
and  an  expression  of  pain  crossed  his  own  features. 
But  there  was  not  a  trace  of  condemnation  in  the  deep- 
set  eyes,  his  faith  being  perfect.  ''  Yes,"  she  added, 
in  a  whisper,  as  though  half  to  herself,  "  'twas  for 
our  colony  I  led  him  on.  But  oh,  if  by  any  chance 
he  should  escape — " 

''It  would  matter  little,"  broke  in  Vytal. 

"How  so?" 

"He  has  failed.  You  have  frustrated  his  plan  to 
estimate  our  strength.  Even  were  he  to  return,  he 
could  impart  naught  of  value  to  the  others.  But 
stay,  in  what  room  have  you  imprisoned  him?" 

159 


John   Vytal 


In  the  main  cabin/' 

That  is  well.  His  knowledge  of  the  fortress  would 
avail  them  nothing.  St.  Magil,  I  doubt  not,  knows 
the  force  and  number  of  our  arms.  'Tis  mainly  my 
new  arrangement  of  the  ships  that  holds  the  \iey  to 
our  defence.  Thus,  Mistress  Dare,  even  should  he 
escape,  which  he  must  not,  you  have  accomplished 
that  w^hich  I  had  not  supposed  within  a  woman's 
range  to  compass.     I  thank  you — deeply.'' 

Her  face  brightened  for  the  instant,  but,  as  he 
walked  away,  she  returned  to  her  home  sadly,  as 
though  even  the  skilful  winning  of  her  first  play 
had  brought  only  an  ephemeral  gladness. 

Vytal  had  but  just  crossed  the  square  when  Mar- 
lowe, having  entered  the  town  from  the  north,  joined 
him.  The  poet  was  dishevelled  from  his  hasty 
pursuit  through  the  forest  and  extremely  agitated. 
"  Gyll  Croyden  has  been  captured  by  the  Indians !" 

"Who  told  you  that?" 

"Our  guest." 

"  And  so  you  went  in  search  of  her?" 

"  Most  Jiaturally,  for  though  she  and  I  are  naught 
save  comrades,  comrades  we  shall  be  to  the  end." 

Vytal  studied  his  face.  "  Our  guest's  name,  Kyt, 
is  Frazer." 

''Frazer!"  The  poet  started.  "We  are  tricked. 
Tricked  by  a  boy!  Forgive  me.  You  must  leave 
another  to  defend  the  fortress,"  and  Marlowe,  draw- 
ing his  sword,  held  it  out  to  the  soldier.  "  Leave  me 
the  pen  only,  for  I  am  not  worthy  of  this." 

But  Vytal  laid  a  hand  on  his  shoulder  kindly. 

I  was  befooled  myself." 

Let  us  go  to  him,"  suggested  Christopher. 
Nay,  I  have  just  sent  Hugh  Rouse,  who  returned 
with  me  from  his  picket  duty.     He  will  bring  the  fel- 
low to  the  fort." 

1 60 


ti 

(I 


A  Tale   of  the    Lost   Colony 

''Let  us  wait  in  the  armory,  then.  I  long  to  see 
that  bantering  actor  pleading  for  our  mercy.  He 
would  play  excellent  well  upon  the  stage,  with  his 
tales  of  torture  and  feigned  idiocy.'' 

So  thej^  waited,  waited  long,  and  still  Hugh  Rouse 
did  not  return. 

The  cause  of  this  delay  is  briefly  told. 

Hugh,  having  stepped  into  a  canoe,  had,  with  a  few 
long  sweeps  of  his  paddle,  come  to  the  Admiral;  and 
the  captive  heard  voices  approaching  the  cabin  door. 
At  this  he  rose  from  the  table,  and,  with  an  air  still 
somewhat  careless,  yet  of  definite  purpose,  concealed 
himself  behind  the  arras  with  which  the  walls  were 
hung. 

Once  more  the  key  grated  in  its  lock,  and  Frazer 
heard  two  men  enter  the  long  cabin,  which  by  now 
was  enveloped  in  gloom.  Seeming  to  stand  near 
the  threshold,  while  their  eyes  were  probably  accus- 
toming themselves  to  the  darkness,  neither  of  these 
men  spoke  at  first,  but  finally  the  prisoner  heard  one 
whisper  to  the  other  and,  with  a  deep  oath,  advance 
farther  into  the  room. 

"He  hides.     Do  you,  Dyonis,  guard  the  door.'' 

Harvie  obeyed,  while  Rouse,  growing  more  and 
more  amazed,  searched  the  cabin  without  success. 
He  might  have  searched  until  the  crack  of  doom  and 
come  no  nearer  to  a  trace  of  the  cunning  quarry. 

For,  even  on  their  first  entrance  midway  into  the 
room,  when  Rouse  had  supposed  that  Harvie  held 
the  door,  and  Harvie  that  the  captive  must  cer- 
tainly be  before  them,  the  bird  had  flown.  Softly, 
in  that  first  moment,  the  heavy  arras  undulated^ 
as  though  a  breeze  were  passing  across  it  from  end 
to  end  of  the  apartment.  Then,  parting  from  the 
wall  near  the  entrance,  it  fell  fiat  again — a  motion- 
less, innocent  piece  of  tapestry  in  darkness. 
L  l6i 


John  Vytal :  A  Tale  of  the  Lost  Colony 

And,  suppressing  a  laugh.  Master  Ralph  lowered 
himself  into  Hugh's  canoe,  to  paddle  away  under 
the  cover  of  evening. 

After  propelling  the  light  craft  silently  for  several 
minutes,  he  listened.  An  oath  rang  out  in  deep  bass 
from  the  Admiral's  deck.  Hearing  this,  he  turned 
the  prow  of  his  canoe  toward  a  narrow  inlet,  and  en- 
tered on  a  winding  forest  stream.  The  moon,  just 
rising  above  the  trees,  ensilvered  his  course  with  a 
radiance  that  found  itself  reflected  yet  more  brightly 
in  his  youthful  eyes. 

On  and  on  he  paddled  with  silent  speed,  until, 
coming  to  an  abrupt  bend  in  the  stream,  he  saw  an- 
other canoe  on  the  opposite  shore.  Looking  about 
him,  he  appeared  to  hesitate ;  but  suddenly  a  golden 
thing,  round  like  a  second  moon,  appeared  over  the 
edge  of  the  lonely  craft. 

''You  will  find  them,''  he  called,  ''on  a  direct  line 
with  your  canoe,  back  in  the  brushwood.  Farewell, 
Gyll,  and  thank  you." 

"Thank  you!"  came  the  answer,  in  exasperation, 
after  him.  "Here  have  I  been  starving,  fearing  to 
move!  Villanous — "  but  he  was  beyond  earshot 
now,  as,  running  the  prow  of  his  boat  onto  a  shelving 
bank  in  the  distance,  he  plunged  straightway  into 
the  forest. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

"Their  blood  and  yours  shall  seal  these  treacheries!" 

— Marlowe,  in  Edward  the  Second. 

"  Browsing  soul !  I  cannot  contemplate  so  much 
obtuseness  without  longing  to  prod  thee  to  some  show 
of  wakefulness  with  my'sword!" 

It  was  Roger  Prat  w^ho  spoke,  and  Hugh  Rouse 
who  gave  no  answ^er.  They  were  lying  at  full  length 
on  the  brow  of  a  low  cliff,  looking  out  across  the  w^a- 
ter.  It  was  night.  Not  a  star  shone.  The  town 
lay  seemingly  asleep  behind  them.  A  large  cul- 
verin  stood  close  to  one  side,  also  peering  through  a 
fringe  of  grasses.  The  two  ships,  at  anchor  with- 
in musket-range,  carried  no  lights. 

"  Had  it  not  been  for  your  ox- brained  stupidity,  we 
might  have  been  laughing  at  Master  Contemptuous 
even  now.''  The  giant  rolled  over  and  surveyed 
his  vituperative  companion  with  a  yawn.  ''Now, 
had  I  been  there,''  Roger  persisted,  ''instead  of  cool- 
ing my  heels  at  the  pleasure  of  these  knaves,  had 
I  been  there  in  place  of  a  numskull.  Master  Frazer 
would  have  been  here.     Dolt!" 

"Have  a  care,  Roger!  I'll  brook  little  more  of 
thy  poet-aping  names.  'Twas  Marlowe  taught  them 
to  you,  and  ever  since,  like  a  magpie — " 

But  the  other  was  shaking  with  mock  laughter. 
"Brook  little  more!"  he  gasped;  "brook  little  more, 
indeed!  And  think  you  I  fear  the  threat  of  one  who 
lets  a  laughing  infant  tweak  his  nose  and  run  away 

163 


John  Vyta] 

without  so  much  as  spanking  the  child?  I  can  see 
him  smihng  now,  as  he  floated  off  in  the  canoe. 
Why,  'twas  in  the  self -same  craft  you  brought  I 
Now,  that  was  considerate  of  thee,  gull/' 

'^  Leave  off,  Roger/' 

"Wherefore?" 

''  Think  you  I  like  to  remember  the  escape?"  There 
was  a  note  almost  pitiful  in  the  gruff  voice,  a  pathet- 
ic growl  that  sounded  like  a  moan.  "  An  I  were  a 
wench.  Prat,  I'd  weep  for  sheer  vexation/' 

Roger  curiously  eyed  him,  and,  strangely  enough, 
the  idea  of  this  giant  weeping  failed  to  touch  his 
bubbling  sense  of  the  ludicrous.  With  an  unprec- 
edented consideration  of  Hugh's  feelings,  he  changed 
the  subject. 

Five  miles  to  the  southward  another  couple  held 
converse.  They  stood  on  the  deck  of  a  Spanish  ves- 
sel— by  name  the  Madre  de  Dios — apart  from  a  com- 
pany of  soldiers, 

"'The  man  we  sent  to  await  him,"  said  one,  "has 
returned  alone.  Yet  our  esteemed  prince  was  to 
have  left  Roanoke  this  morning." 

"  Then  what  think  j'-ou,  St.  Magil?"  asked  the  other, 
who  was  evidently  a  Spanish  officer  of  no  mean  rank. 
"I  fear  his  wajrward  highness  has  come  to  harm, 
and  is  a  prisoner  in  their  fort.  Shall  we  not  push 
forward  without  further  delay?" 

"By  all  means  let  us  hasten  to  the  attack.  To- 
waye,  the  Indian  who  guided  me  from  Roanoke, 
has  gone  with  provisions  to  meet  his  highness  near 
the  town/' 

In  the  main  cabin  of  an  English  ship  still  a  third 
couple  conversed  with  as  much  import  in  their  words 
as  the  second. 

164 


A  Tale   of  the    Lost  Colony 

"There  is  yet  no  sign?'' 
"Not  yet,  Captain  Vytal/' 
"They  will  carry  no  lights,  Dyonis.'' 
"Nay,  sir,  I  look  for  a  black  shadow,  and  listen 
for  the  ripple  under  its  bow/' 

As  though  the  hand  of  Death  were  on  them,  the 
ships  and  the  town  lay  still.  Only  a  single  circle 
of  light,  like  a  watchful  eye  with  a  dark  iris,  shone 
through  an  aperture  in  the  fortress  wall.  The  cen- 
tral disk  was  a  cannon's  muzzle. 

On  the  ramparts  of  the  fort  a  man  stood  alone, 
looking  out  across  the  w^ater.  It  was  Christopher 
Marlowe,  alert,  restless,  and  impatient. 

Below  him,  in  the  armory,  a  small  gathering  of 
women  and  soldiers,  under  the  immediate  coromand 
of  Captain  Pomp,  sat  about  in  groups,  waiting.  In 
one  corner,  apart  from  the  rest,  Eleanor  Dare  and 
her  father  talked  in  low  tones,  while  Margery  Harvie, 
on  a  bench  beside  them,  crooned  a  lullaby  to  an  in- 
fant that  lay  sleeping  in  her  lap. 

From  time  to  time  another  woman,  who  sat  at  a 
table  across  the  room,  even  now  jesting  with  several 
soldiers,  looked  at  the  central  figure  of  this  group 
with  an  expression  in  which  resentment  and  admi- 
ration were  curiously  blended.  Gyll  Croj^den  had 
frequently  looked  at  Eleanor  thus,  and  always  as 
though  from  a  distance  greater  than  the  actual 
space  which  lay  between  them. 

Suddenly  the  child,  who  had  been  christened  Vir- 
ginia, in  honor  of  England's  possession,  awoke,  cry- 
ing feebly,  and  Eleanor,  with  much  concern,  took  it 
in  her  arms.  Her  expression,  as  she  looked  down 
into  the  little  face,  suggested  varied  emotions.  There 
was  a  mother's  love  in  her  eyes,  a  deep  maternal  de- 
votion ;  but,  mingled  with  this,  another,  less  obvious, 

165 


John  Vytal 

expression  seemed  to  betray  some  depth  of  feeling 
at  odds  with  the  first,  and  possibly  stronger,  though 
more  subtle  and  indefinable. 

She  turned  to  her  father.  ''Must  we  wait  forever 
here?    It  seems  an  eternity,  and  I  grow  fearful  lest — '' 

The  kindly  governor  interrupted  her.  ''Nay, 
there  is  naught  to  fear,  my  little  one.  They  will 
doubtless  attack  the  ships  at  first,  thinking  us  all 
unwatchful,  or  vigilant  only  in  the  town.  It  is  for 
that  reason,  you  know,  that  Captain  Vytal,  seeking 
to  repulse  and  overwhelm  them  at  the  first  onset, 
has  manned  the  Admiral  and  concealed  over  seventy 
men  below.  Of  a  surety  the  enemy  will  attack  this 
vessel  first,  as  it  lies  to  the  south  and  is  the  larger 
prize.  Yet,  mark  you,  they  will  be  utterly  unable 
thus  to  cut  off  our  last  means  of  retreat.'' 

But  his  attempt  to  reassure  her  failed.  "I  fear 
many  will  be  killed,''  she  said,  half  to  herself,  and 
he  saw  that  her  eyes  were  moist  with  unshed  tears. 

"  Let  us  pray  it  may  not  be  so,  Eleanor.  Our  peo- 
ple seem  to  have  caught  Vytal's  unflinching  cour- 
age; moreover,  the  men,  well  armed  and  galliated, 
will  find  our  foe  all  unprepared  for  so  sudden  a  re- 
sistance." 

To  this  a  new  voice,  gentle  but  masculine,  made 
rejoinder,  and  the  Oxford  preacher  stood  beside  them. 
"You  have  said  'Let  us  pray';  with  your  Excel- 
lency's permission  I  will  do  so."  In  a  moment  the 
whole  company  were  on  their  knees,  while  the  preacher 
invoked  the  aid  of  the  God  of  battles  in  simple  w^ords. 

The  infant  in  its  mother's  lap  was  crying  more 
pitifully  now  than  heretofore.  And,  without  warn- 
ing, as  the  soldiers  resumed  their  games  again  and 
Gyll  Croyden  her  babble,  a  convulsion  seized  it,  dis- 
torting the  diminutive  features  cruelly. 

Eleanor,  rising,  rocked  it  to  and  fro  in  her  arms. 

i66 


(f 


A  Tale   of  the    Lost  Colony 

The  mother's  love  was  now  unquestionably  predom- 
inant. Handing  the  child  to  Margery  Harvie,  she 
spoke  a  few  words  to  her  father :  "  There  is  an  herb 
which  IManteo  has  shown  me;  boiled  in  water,  it 
will  restore  her  at  once.     I  must  get  it. '' 

"Nay,  but—" 

''  Oh,  there  is  no  danger.     It  grows  but  just  behind 
the  palisade.     I  go  m^^self,  for  I  alone  can  find  it." 
1  will  go  with  you." 

No,  stay  here.  Your  presence  is  needed  to  en- 
courage them.  1  will  take  two  soldiers,  if  you  so  de- 
sire," and  she  beckoned  to  a  couple  of  fighting-men 
who  sat  near  by.  ''Bring  a  lanthorn,  concealed  as 
best  you  can  beneath  your  cloak." 

She  led  the  way  to  a  rear  entrance.  As  the  sol- 
diers unbarred  the  open  door,  a  woman's  voice  ad- 
dressed her.  ''I  go  with  you  an  I  may.  Two 
women  are  safer  than  one  alone."  It  was  Gyll  Croy- 
den. 

Eleanor  turned  and  looked  into  her  face  for  an  in- 
stant, then  accepted  her  offer.     ''I  thank  you." 

In  another  minute  they  w^ere  hastening  silently  to 
the  palisade  in  single  file,  one  of  their  guardians  lead- 
ing, the  other  bringing  up  the  rear.  With  difficulty 
they  groped  their  w^ay  to  the  southern  entrance  of 
the  town,  and,  after  a  word  to  the  sentry  stationed 
there,  passed  out.  Soon  Eleanor,  by  the  aid  of  the 
soldier's  lanthorn,  was  plucking  leaves  from  a  bush 
that  grew^  not  over  a  furlong  from  the  town. 

They  started  to  return,  but  paused,  breathless, 
hearing  a  rustle  of  leaves  behind  them. 

Then,  suddenly,  a  low  whir,  as  of  a  bird's  wing, 
and  the  rearmost  soldier  fell  on  his  face,  dead.  A 
long,  slender  arrow,  the  like  of  which  they  had  never 
seen,  quivered  between  his  shoulder-blades,  a  shim- 
mering reed  in  the  lanthorn  light. 

167 


John   Vytal 

They  broke  into  a  run. 

Again  the  whisper  of  Death,  and  their  second  es- 
cort, struck  in  the  hip,  staggered  and  fell  to  his  knees. 
At  this  Gyll  Croyden,  crying  aloud  for  help,  started 
forward  again,  but  Eleanor  had  stopped  to  succor 
the  wounded  man. 

In  that  moment  the  two  women  heard  a  quick 
step  behind  them,  and,  before  they  could  turn  about, 
their  arms  were  seized  and  pinioned  at  their  backs. 
A  silken  kerchief  fell  like  a  thick  veil  over  Eleanor's 
eyes  and  tightened,  but  not  so  suddenly  as  to  shut 
out  the  sight  of  a  short,  half-naked  Indian,  who  was 
engaged  in  blindfolding  Gyll  Croyden.  Then  a 
voice,  evidently  from  the  man  who  had  bandaged 
her  own  eyes,  spoke  in  a  low  tone,  and  she  recog- 
nized the  accents  with  dismay. 

They  were  Frazer's.  ''To  the  ravine,  Towaye, 
and  await  me  there.''  His  voice  sank  to  a  whisper, 
yet  not  too  low  for  Eleanor's  quick  ears.  "  Remem- 
ber, no  harm  to  them  an  you  value  life." 

By  now  the  wounded  guardsman,  having  dragged 
himself  toward  Ralph,  wildly  drew  his  sword;  then, 
painfully  struggling  to  his  knees,  thrust  in  blind 
desperation,  but  only  succeeded  in  pricking  Frazer's 
arm. 

The  youth  turned,  and,  overestimating  his  oppo- 
nent's strength,  despatched  the  kneeling  soldier  with 
no  compunction  nor  instinctive  mercy.  He  was  a 
man  who  would  demand  little  quarter,  and  who,  for 
all  his  boyish  fribbling,  gave  less. 

" Quick,  Towaye!"  But  once  more  Gyll  cried  out, 
though  Eleanor  stood  impassive  by  her  side.  The 
youth  frowned.  ''Gag  them,"  and  he  hurried  to 
Eleanor.     "  My  love, "  he  whispered,  "  the  king  wins. " 

On  the  water  a  dense  shadow  moved  slowly  toward 

i68 


A  Tale   of  the    Lost  Colony 

Roanoke.  Like  Destiny  it  glided  forward,  silent, 
inexorable,  black. 

Without  resistance,  it  came  closer  and  yet  closer 
to  its  quarry,  until  at  last  the  shadow  met  a  shadow 
like  itself,  as  cloud  meets  cloud.  And  as  from  clouds, 
a  guttural  oath  of  thunder  burst  suddenly  forth  in 
fury  to  smite  and  profane  the  ear  of  night. 

The  shadow  was  a  panther  of  the  sea,  stealing  on 
a  prey  seemingly  tranquil  and  asleep — a  wild  beast 
of  the  desert  coming  to  claim  by  the  law  of  might  an 
oasis  in  the  waste. 

The  crucial  moment,  so  long  awaited,  had  come 
at  last. 

Two  ships  became  alive  and  fought  for  Roanoke 
Island. 


"'Captain  Vytal,  they  are  here!" 

'"  How  near,  Dyonis?" 

"So  near  that  in  another  instant  they  will  board 


us." 


"To  arms,  then!" 

"Ay,"  and  a  whisper  ran  from  mouth  to  mouth 
along  the  deck.  There  was  a  low  click  as  of  pistol- 
triggers  cocking,  and  fifty  dark  shadows,  which  had 
lain  prone  behind  the  bulwark,  rose,  each  to  one  knee. 

The  ships  lay  breast  to  breast,  feeling  each  other's 
sides.  And  suddenly  the  glare  of  a  hundred  new-lit 
torches  illumined  the  Spanish  deck;  but  the  Ad- 
miral's  bulwark  shielded  her  ambush  from  the  light. 

Without  warning,  a  line  of  steel  corselets  and  mo- 
rions, flashing  in  the  radiance,  started  forward  from 
the  Madre  de  Dios,  started,  rolled  on,  and  rose  to  the 
bulwark  as  a  silver  wave  rises  in  the  moonlight,  su- 
perb, brilliant,  invincible,  vaunting  itself  before  the 
sable  shore.  And,  like  moon-rays  playing  across 
the  crest,  a  hundred  swords  flashed  high. 

169 


John  Vytal 

The  silver  surf,  crashing,  broke.  Hidden  rocks 
had  awaited  it  in  darkness.  Baffled,  it  lashed  them, 
rose,  fell,  dispersed,  concentrated — a  wild  seethe  of 
tormented  fury. 

The  wave  was  foam:  there  was  momentarily^  no 
concertion,  no  detail.  Chaos  rose  above  order,  an- 
archy above  method,  chagrined  amazement  above 
victorious  triumph. 

The  surprise  was  complete.  At  both  ends  the 
Spanish  line  wavered.  Here  the  counter-attack  be- 
gan more  suddenly  than  in  the  centre. 

Vytal  at  one  end,  D3^onis  Harvie  at  the  other,  turned 
both  flanks  of  the  enemy.  It  was  a  manoeuvre  that 
gave  the  lie  to  chaos.  Method  lurked  in  the  seeming 
madness.  The  Spanish  cannoneers,  having  heard 
the  sounds  of  a  hand-to-hand  conflict,  at  the  first 
surprise  rushed  to  their  comrades'  aid.  The  cul- 
verins  and  minions,  nosing  the  Admiral's  hull,  were 
for  a  moment  deserted.  The  impulse  had  been  fore- 
seen; hence  the  flank  movement. 

VytaVs  first  tactic,  bold  and  open,  succeeded.  Fort- 
unately, the  Madre  de  Dios  was  not  a  man-of-war, 
but  only  a  Biscayan  carack,  transformed  temporarily 
and  diverted  from  her  commerce  between  St.  Augus- 
tine and  Spain.  Thus  her  ports  were  few,  and  the 
guns  below  deck,  being  inconsiderable  in  number, 
were  easily  seized  to  prevent  bombardment.  A  score 
of  English,  pursued  by  the  now  witting  gunners, 
gained  the  command  of  these  pieces.  In  an  instant 
the  guns  were  spiked,  their  silence  maintained  with 
iron  gags,  their  deep  throats  choking. 

Harvie,  with  his  men,  defended  them.  Vytal  re- 
turned to  the  bulwark.  The  Spanish  cannoneers, 
finding  recapture  impossible,  likewise  joined  the  main 
body. 

Then  for  a  time  mere  carnal  bloodshed  followed. 

170 


A  Tale   of  the    Lost  Colony 

The  steel  sea  had  leaped  back  upon  itself.  The 
Spanish  aggressors  became  defenders  on  their  own 
decks.  The  ranks  of  both  sides  were  broken.  Each 
man  fought  for  himself. 

Here  it  was  sword  against  sword;  there  pike  and 
pike.  Here  pistols  and  arquebuses,  mouthing  each 
other,  thundered  spitefully  at  closest  range;  there 
a  piece  of  brass  ordnance  on  deck  shone  in  the  torch- 
glare,  itself  a  flame  that  belched  flame  and  shot  out 
clanking  chain-shot,  gobbets  of  iron  or  missiles  like 
dumb-bells  —  twin  deaths.  Here  it  w^as  hand-to- 
hand,  men  glutting  the  lust  of  their  inborn  hatred 
by  sheer  brute  force,  weaponless;  there  a  crimson 
poniard  gleamed  dully  for  a  second,  and  a  figure 
lurched  backward  to  the  slippery  deck.  Here,  whir- 
ring, a  garish  firebrand  fell  to  an  upturned  face  and 
burned  away  the  look  of  anguish;  there  a  sword 
bled  a  shadow. 

But  strategy  worked  in  silence  and  darkness.  The 
first  tactic  of  Vytal  was  answered  by  St.  Magil.  A 
man  made  his  way  to  the  bow  of  the  Madre  de  Dios, 
shielding  a  torch.     The  wind  favored  his  project. 

There  was  a  flash  of  light  across  the  strip  of  water 
from  prow  to  prow,  a  tongue  of  flame  in  the  air,  and 
the  firebrand  fell  flaring  to  a  mat  on  the  AdviiraVs 
beak-head.  The  man,  cowering,  watched  it,  safe 
in  the  knowledge  that  his  vessel  lay  immediately  j 
to  windward  of  the  foe.  Gradually  the  unnoticed 
fire  spread  to  the  bowsprit's  mat,  and  thence  to  the 
false  stem  of  wood.  At  the  same  moment  a  nimiber 
of  chains  and  ropes  were  flung  out  like  the  tentacles 
of  a  polj^pus  from  the  Spanish  j^ards  to  the  rigging 
of  the  Admiral.  At  the  ends  of  these  groping  fingers, 
irons  like  talons  grappled  with  hal^^ards  and  naked 
spars. 

The  ships  were  locked  in  a  death-grip. 

171 


John   Vytal 

With  a  sudden,  concerted  rush,  as  though  the 
flames  encouraged  it  to  advance,  the  sea  of  shining- 
morions  and  corselets  rose  once  more,  surged  for- 
ward, broke  over  the  Adniiral's  bulwark,  undulating, 
clashing,  roaring,  as  the  receding  line  of  English 
fell  back  before  it  inch  by  inch. 

The  Admiral's  deck  was  now  a  heaving  sea  of 
molten  silver. 

But  the  eyes  of  St.  Magil,  looking  across  to  it  from 
the  outer  shade  of  the  Aladre  de  Dios's  bow,  suddenly 
grew  grave  and  lost  their  triumph.  The  wind  had 
changed.  Fate  intervened.  Vytal  was  backed  by 
the  elements.  The  insidious  fire,  of  Sir  Walter's 
own  kindling,  had  recoiled.  The  Admiral  carried 
no  sails,  the  Madre  de  Dios  many.  The  fire  returned 
to  feed  itself.  Leaving  behind  it  a  burning  skeleton 
superstructure,  from  which  small  spars  fell  flaming 
on  the  combatants  amid  a  maze  of  ropes  that  glowed 
like  fuses  over  all,  it  glided  back,  a  venomous  snake, 
to  the  Spanish  vessel,  or,  rather,  like  a  hundred 
snakes,  for  the  very  grapple-ropes  by  which  St. 
Magil  had  bound  his  enemy  were  golden  serpents 
now  writhing  to  the  shrouds. 

Suddenly  a  tongue  of  fire,  licking  the  Spanish 
bowsprit  and  spritsail  yards,  lolled  listlessly  for  an 
instant,  as  though  satiated  and  fatigued,  then  shot 
up  all  the  more  greedily  to  the  foretop. 

And  now  a  wavering  sheet  of  flame  rose  and  swayed 
like  an  immense  golden  flag,  as  though  the  fire  itself 
had  flung  to  the  breeze  a  royal  emblem  of  destruction. 

But  at  the  instant,  when  only  the  bowsprit  and 
spritsail  yard  had  as  yet  succumbed,  St.  Magil  had 
hastened  amidships.  Here  he  commanded  the  few 
Spaniards  who  had  not  yet  forced  their  way  to  the 
English  vessel  to  cut  the  grapples  and  cast  off  im- 
mediately.   But  the  intertwining  fingers  that  he  him- 

172 


A  Tale    of  the    Lost   Colony 

self  had  stretched  out  to  enfold  the  prey  held  tena- 
ciously. Snarled  inextricably,  they  lay  across  from 
ship  to  ship,  high  and  low,  a  hopeless  tangle  of  fet- 
ters. 

When  finally  the  sheet  of  flame  unspread  itself 
aloft,  St.  Magil  desisted.  His  men  would  have  rushed 
then  to  the  Admiral,  preferring  the  chance  of  battle 
to  a  furnace  death ;  but  he  controlled  with  desperate 
power. 

"  Cut  away  the  bowsprit  and  f  oretop-gallant-mast ! " 

The  men,  following  him,  ran  to  the  forecastle.  "  The 
foretop-gallant-mast  is  too  high.     It  burns!" 

''  The  f oretop-mast,  then,  quick !  and  cut  the  hal- 
yards!'' 

A  sudden  descending  flare,  as  if  the  heavens  had 
opened  to  envelop  the  striving  seamen,  and  the  flag 
of  flame  lay  roaring  at  their  feet.  The  fire  had 
struck  its  colors.  They  grasped  the  burning  canvas 
and  flung  it  overboard. 

''To  the  attack!''  And  St.  Magil,  at  last  draw- 
ing his  sword  for  open  fight,  led  them  in  the  main 
contest. 

Two  score  Englishmen,  in  double  file,  stood  side  by 
side  on  the  Adniiral's  deck  repelling  a  superior  force 
that  strove  to  exterminate  them.  The  front  line 
fought  with  swords ;  the  rear  with  pistols  and  mus- 
ketoons,  whose  barrels  looked  out  between  friendly 
shoulders  before  them.  Thus  the  swordsmen,  ranged 
alternately  with  the  musketeers,  were  slightly  in  ad- 
vance, and  must  needs  bear  the  brunt  of  the  on- 
slaught. 

In  this  file  Vytal  held  a  central  position.  Beside 
him,  either  by  accident  or  purpose,  stood  Ananias 
Dare,  and  beyond  the  assistant,  Dyonis  Harvie,  who 
had  been  recalled.  In  a  line  at  their  feet  lay  their 
fallen  comrades  and  opponents,  forming,  in  the  final 

173 


John  Vytal 

tliroes  of  death,  a  ghastly  rampart  across  which  the 
Hving  fought. 

Again  and  again  the  onrush  and  repulse.  The 
double  file  was  a  wall  of  stone. 

St.  Magil  himself,  springing  into  the  middle  breach 
of  his  foremost  rank,  armed  with  a  broadsword,  made 
bold  to  attack  the  man  whom  he  held  responsible  for 
the  unflinching  resistance.  Vytal,  who  now  carried 
a  heavy  blade  himself,  met  his  chief  antagonist  with 
stern,  almost  business-like  precision,  as  he  had  en- 
countered all  the  unknown  soldiers  that  had  come 
before. 

Suddenly  St.  Magil  turned  aside  to  Ananias  Dare 
and  thrust  viciously.  The  stroke  threatened  death. 
Vytal  parried  it.  For  many  minutes,  that  seemed 
years,  he  had  been  defending  two  men  at  once.  St. 
Magil  fell  back  to  the  rear  ranks  with  a  lifeless  arm. 
A  Spanish  officer  of  high  rank  took  his  place  and, 
with  a  rallying  cry,  led  his  men  once  more  against 
the  battered  English  wall. 

Steel  in  torment  clashed  and  rang  on  shields  that 
thwarted  its  desire.  Leaden  bullets,  like  driven  sleet, 
shot  from  both  sides,  buried  themselves  with  a  monot- 
onous thud  in  heavy  cotton  targets.  Every  man 
but  one  had  only  himself  to  guard.  Save  with  Vy- 
tal, there  was  no  trust  but  the  cause  and  the  indi- 
vidual. 

The  Spaniards  persisted.  They  had  been  held 
at  the  last  assault,  but  not  repelled.  They  were 
on  the  brink  of  victory,  eight  score  against  less  than 
four;  the  issue  could  not  be  doubtful. 

Ananias  Dare,  although  brave  with  a  slight  ex- 
cess of  wine  and  the  knowledge  that  Vytal  stood  be- 
side him,  wavered.  St.  Magil's  thrust  had  shat- 
tered his  puny  courage.  He  gave  way  and  fell  back 
to  the  line  of  musketeers.     Vytal  and  Dyonis  Harvie 

174  m 


A  Tale   of  the    Lost   Colony 

closed  in  before  him.  But  the  disastrous  effect  of 
even  one  man's  retreat  was  not  so  easily  averted. 
His  sword  had  proved  of  little  service,  but  the  influ- 
ence of  each  man  on  all  had  been  incalculable.  A 
single  bolt  in  the  precise  mechanism  had  broken.  The 
machine  shook,  grated,  and  threatened  to  fall  in  pieces. 
r/  The  line  tottered.  Ananias,  perceiving  with  ter- 
y  ror  the  result  of  his  cowardice,  sought  to  retrieve 
himself  by  rallying  his  fellows  with  a  cry.  But  de- 
spair rose  above  encouragement  in  the  call.  His 
eyes,  wild  and  horror-struck,  looked  over  Harvie's 
shoulder  at  the  force  that  must  surely  in  another  in- 
stant overrun  him.  He  was  thinking  only  of  him- 
self then,  not  of  the  cause  nor  of  his  countrymen. 
His  headpiece  had  fallen  off,  revealing  a  dishevelled 
mass  of  silken  hair,  w^et  with  the  sweat  of  fear.  His 
lips  dripped  foam.     The  end,  he  believed,  had  come. 

Yet  Vytal,  with  a  sharp  word,  delayed  it.  The 
voice,  deep  and  resonant  wdth  desperate  command, 
reawakened  hope  and  energy.  The  attackers  neither 
gave  way  nor  succeeded  in  advancing. 

Had  Vytal  lost  ?  It  seemed  to  him  impossible. 
He  had  never  known  the  word  save  once,  in  youth, 
when  a  rigid  cordon  of  steel  like  this  had  encircled 
him  in  the  streets  of  Paris.  The  memory  of  that  mas- 
sacre, in  which  his  parents  had  been  murdered  by 
Catholics,  like  these,  redoubled  his  fury.  He  flung 
himself  against  the  line  of  bristling  swords  that,  im- 
passable as  a  vast  cheval-de-frise,  checked  him  at 
every  quarter.  The  knowledge  that  he  held  another 
life  in  trust  —  a  detestable  life  —  nevertheless,  must 
he  not  preserve  it? — quickened  his  every  fibre  for  a 
new  attempt.  But  above  and  beneath  all  a  woman's 
name  seemed  to  reverberate  through  his  whole  being 
like  the  war-cry  of  a  soul. 

He  thrust,  thrust,  and  thrust  again.     The  swords 

175 


John  Vytal 

met,  slithered,  and  the  Spanish  officer  fell  groaning 
on  the  rampart  of  dead. 

The  enemy's  line  gave  way.  The  English  started 
forward.  But  St.  Magil,  nursing  his  wounded  arm 
in  the  rear,  met  the  emergency  with  a  new  tactic. 
Hoarsely  he  bade  a  dozen  men  to  stand  upon  the  bul- 
w^ark,  each  with  a  torch  in  hand.  The  manoeuvre 
favored  him.  The  English  fell  back  apace.  A  line 
of  wavering  light  blinded  their  eyes.  The  firebrands' 
dazzling  glare  rendered  their  thrusts  and  parries  far 
wilder  and  more  uncertain  than  before.  Vytal's 
face,  illuminated  vividly  by  the  maddening  light, 
grew  doubly  tense  and  desperate.  Wounded  in  the 
left  arm  by  the  slash  of  a  cutlass,  his  corselet  dented 
in  many  places,  his  eyes  haggard  and  lips  white, 
his  grizzled  brow  and  close-cut  beard  clotted  with 
sweat  and  blood,  he  nevertheless  stood  there  still, 
a  grim,  unconquerable  Death.  He  fell  to  his  knee, 
and  fought  so;  then,  staggering,  rose  again  and 
towered  indomitable.  Still  the  word  ''lose''  had  no 
meaning  for  him  save  when  applied  to  an  enemy. 
And  even  now,  on  the  very  verge  of  defeat,  his  rage 
and  iron  will  thus  applied  it  in  the  turmoil  of  his 
depths  to  St.  Magil. 

Dyonis  Harvie  fell  beside  him  wounded  in  the 
throat.  Vytal  turned  to  a  musketeer  who  had  stepped 
forward  in  the  opening.  ''Mark  the  torch-bearers!" 
and  then,  louder — "The  torch-bearers!" 

A  few  shots  rang  out  w^ith  new  purpose  amid  the 
havoc,  and  three  Spaniards  lurched  backward  from 
the  bulwark,  flinging  toward  the  English  with  a 
last  derision  the  sputtering  cressets  as  they  fell.  St. 
Magil  turned  to  the  men  nearest  him.  "Replace 
them!''  And  three  soldiers,  leaping  to  the  bulwark, 
reinforced  the  lurid  line  of  flambeaus  which  had 
worked  so  much  disaster. 

176 


A  Tale   of  the    Lost  Colony 

The  ammunition  of  the  English  marksmen  had 
given  out.  V3^tal  noted  the  silence.  "Your  cut- 
lasses !  Stand  close  to  me !  We  are  Englishmen  .  .  . 
There !  .  .  .  Good !  .  .  .  Hold  fast !  .  .  .  Death 
is  not  defeat,  surrender  is  !  .  .  .  We  .  .  .  win  .  .  . 
dying!'' 

His  words  took  the  place  of  bullets,  his  voice  of 
the  steel  blades  which  were  now  but  streaks  of  crim- 
son on  the  deck. 

"Dying!" 

But  no ;  suddenly  from  the  near  shore,  on  which 
a  little  knot  of  women  stood  wringing  their  hands  in 
grief,  a  canoe  shot  out  toward  the  Aladre  de  Dios. 
It  held  one  man.  Then  a  second  craft  glided  swiftly 
from  the  land  as  though  in  pursuit,  and  this,  too, 
was  propelled  by  a  single  paddle.  Next,  yet  a  third 
boat,  and  a  fourth — but  these  were  barges — joined 
in  what  seemed  a  chase,  and  each  contained  ten  sol- 
diers from  the  fort. 

In  a  moment  the  foremost  craft  had  gained  the 
Spanish  vessel,  and  Frazer  was  climbing  up  a  rope 
to  the  top  deck.  Marlowe,  from  the  second  canoe, 
followed  close  upon  his  heels,  livid  with  fury.  Frazer 
turned  to  cut  the  rope,  but,  finding  himself  too  late, 
rushed  through  a  network  of  burning  stays  and  spars 
to  the  scene  of  the  last  stand.  In  a  second  he  was 
lost  in  the  melee.  Marlowe,  once  on  the  deck,  for- 
bore to  pursue  him  farther,  and  turned  to  Captain 
Pomp,  who,  with  twenty  soldiers,  was  scaling  the 
vessel's  side  from  the  barges.  ''Not  a  word,  any 
of  you,  concerning  Mistress  Dare.  Are  your  arms 
readv?" 

-Ay." 

They  advanced  rapidly,  Marlowe  and  Captain 
Pomp  leading  through  a  whirl  of  smoke — all  but  one, 
who  broke  away,  and,  creeping  into  the  darkness, 
M  177 


John  Vytal 

gained  the  forecastle.  Then,  swinging  himself  like 
a  monkey  across  to  the  Admiral's  bow,  this  deserter 
disappeared  in  the  English  hold.  It  was  Ferdinando, 
who  had  been  left  by  Vytal  under  the  surveillance 
of  the  guard,  and  who,  in  the  confusion,  had  been 
carelessly  permitted  to  join  the  party  of  rescue. 

Marlowe  attacked  the  enemy's  rear.  A  hoarse 
cheer  rose  from  Vytal's  company.  The  Spaniards 
had  been  hemmed  in,  but  Frazer  spoke  hurriedly  to 
St.  Magil.  "Their  fort  is  utterly  deserted.  Send 
a  score  to  land.     We  shall  win  the  town. '' 

At  a  whispered  command  twenty  men  from  the  end 
of  the  Spanish  line  wheeled,  and,  cutting  their  way 
past  Marlowe,  scrambled  down  into  the  barges.  The 
poet  could  not  bring  himself  to  order  a  pursuit.  The 
sight  of  his  friend  fighting  there,  grimly,  against 
so  great  odds,  deterred  him.     He  must  save  Vytal. 

Two  barges  glided  out  from  the  Aladre  de  Dios 
across  the  golden  water  which,  reflecting  the  flaming 
tracery  of  the  rigging,  lay  between  them  and  land. 
But  suddenly  from  the  brow  of  a  low  cliff  there  came 
a  roar  of  thunder,  and  an  iron  ball  struck  the  fore- 
most barge. 

The  Spaniards  in  the  second  turned  back  to  the 
ship,  others  swimming  in  their  wake.  ''We  have 
underestimated  their  force,''  said  one;  ''the  whole 
cliff  is  fortified."  And,  as  if  to  emphasize  his  words, 
a  second  ball  splashed  in  the  water  at  his  side. 

It  was  for  this  that  Prat  and  Rouse  had  waited, 
each,  through  the  long  moments,  commanding  the 
other's  patience.  They  could  not  fire  at  the  carack, 
fearing  to  hit  friends,  but  the  course  of  a  separate 
landing-force  had  been  purposely  covered  by  their 
culverin.  Here  Vytal  had  stationed  them  for  the 
final  defence;  here,  apart  from  all  their  fellows,  two 
men  held  no  mean  portion  of  a  continent. 

178 


A  Tale   of  the    Lost  Colony 

Seeing  the  Spaniards  returning,  Frazer  sought 
to  reassure  them;  but  in  the  middle  of  his  remon- 
strance St.  Magil  bade  them  reinforce  their  com- 
rades on  the  Admiral. 

They  strove  to  obey,  but  could  not.  Their  friends, 
retreating  in  disorder,  fell  back  before  the  concerted 
attack  of  Vytal  and  Marlowe.  Many,  who  at  the 
first  had  been  hemmed  in,  lay  lifeless  across  the  scup- 
pers, w^eltering  in  a  stream  of  blood  that  could  find 
no  outlet  to  the  sea.  Others,  more  fortunate,  now 
stampeded  back  over  the  Spanish  bulwark  and  formed 
a  compact  phalanx  for  defence. 

The  tide  had  turned.  The  English,  reforming 
their  ranks,  were  on  the  point  of  advancing  with  a 
rush.  Frazer,  however,  had  foreseen  the  issue. 
"  Cut  the  grapples  I''  The  ropes,  now  severed  by  fire, 
held  in  few  places. 

In  a  moment  the  Madre  de  Dios  began  to  fall  away. 
At  this  instant  a  small,  stooping  figure  scurried  like 
a  rat  from  the  Admiral's  forward  hatches  and  sprang 
across  the  widening  strip  of  water  to  the  Spanish 
ship.  Vytal  saw  the  man.  "Who  is  that?''  And 
some  one  answered,  ''Ferdinando.'' 

Marlowe  blanched.  "My  God!  the  powder  in 
the  hold — a  dozen  kegs  of  Benjamin!  Is  it  possible 
that—" 

But  Vytal,  wounded  though  he  was  and  blinded 
with  sweat,  had  already  gained  the  hatches.  With 
his  sword  he  fought  the  last  foe — a  long,  slow-burn- 
ing fuse,  whose  spark  shone  like  a  glow-worm  in  the 
darkness.  Severing  the  slow-match  with  a  stroke  of 
his  weapon,  he  ground  his  heel  into  the  spark  and 
glanced  about  sharply  to  make  sure  of  no  further 
danger.  Then,  regaining  the  deck,  he  looked  first 
at  Dyonis  Harvie,  who  was  being  lowered  by  Captain 
Pomp  into  a  cock-boat,  and  next  out  across  the  water 

179 


John  Vytal:   A  Tale  of  the  Lost  Colony 

with  haggard  but  victorious  eyes.  '"It  is  well/'  he 
said,  in  a  low  voice,  for  he  could  just  distinguish  the 
Madre  de  Dios,  \\ke  a  beaten  hound,  dragging  her- 
self away  into  the  gloom. 

Suddenly,  as  if  life  had  ended  with  the  necessity 
for  action,  he  fell  back  senseless  into  Marlowe's  arms. 


CHAPTER  XV 

"Ah,  life  and  soul,  still  hover  in  his  breast. 
And  leave  my  body  senseless  as  the  earth." 

— Marlowe,  in  Tamburlaine. 

''Dearest,  the  king  wins/'  When  Frazer  had 
spoken  these  w^ords,  prior  to  the  meeting  of  the  ships, 
Eleanor  Dare  and  Gyll  Croyden  were  led  away  into 
the  forest  by  To  way  e,  the  Indian.  They  gave  no 
outcry,  each  having  across  her  mouth  a  bandage 
of  silk,  nor  was  resistance  possible,  their  hands  being 
firmly  tied  behind  them.  Yet  Gyll,  at  last,  would 
have  thrown  herself  upon  the  ground  and  refused 
positively  to  walk  farther  had  she  not  feared  a  w^orse 
fate  at  the  hands  of  their  escort.  Moreover,  she  heard 
Eleanor's  footsteps  rustling  just  ahead  without  ces- 
sation, and  her  heart  took  courage  of  the  example. 

Finally,  after  they  had  followed  a  narrow  trail 
seemingly  for  miles,  Tow^aye,  who  brought  up  the 
rear  of  the  single  file,  halted.  Then,  unblinding 
their  eyes  and  unshackling  their  wTists,  probably 
by  another's  command,  he  bade  them  be  seated  on 
the  trunk  of  a  fallen  elm  to  rest  themselves.  Each 
was  but  a  shadow  to  the  other,  so  deep  lay  the  dark- 
ness in  the  forest.  But  the  shadows  were  not  long 
motionless,  for  presently,  with  a  word,  Towaye  told 
them  to  rise,  and,  binding  their  hands  now  before 
them,  yet  leaving  their  eyes  unbandaged,  pushed 
them  once  more  ahead  of  him  on  the  trail.  Thus  they 
walked  for  an  hour  in  silence  until  commanded  to 

i8i 


John  Vytal 

turn  aside,  at  which,  after  entering  a  small  clearing, 
they  were  once  more  permitted  to  halt. 

Apparently  they  had  now  reached  their  destina- 
tion, for  the  Indian,  striking  two  stones,  one  against 
another,  set  fire  to  a  heap  of  dry  leaves,  on  which  he 
threw  an  armful  of  brushwood.  As  the  glade  was 
illuminated  the  women  glanced  about  them  quickly, 
for  they  were  not  long  allowed  to  remain  in  the  open- 
ing. Leading  them  to  the  clearing's  margin,  near 
a  deep  ravine,  Towaye  drew  aside  a  hanging  curtain 
of  grape-vines  and  motioned  them  into  a  natural  ar- 
bor whose  walls  and  roof  were  formed  by  an  inex- 
tricable tangle  of  tough  tendrils,  which  rendered  the 
stronghold  as  impervious  as  though  it  had  been  en- 
closed by  stone.  The  curtain,  drawn  back  and  twist- 
ed like  a  portiere,  left  open  a  narrow,  brambly  en- 
trance, through  wliich  the  near  fire  cast  its  glare  to 
light  up  the  interior.  Large  clusters  of  grapes  hung 
in  profusion  on  every  side  and  carpeted  the  earth, 
their  rich  fragrance  filling  the  air  as  they  were  trod 
under  foot  by  the  two  who  entered. 

The  Indian,  and  doubtless  Frazer,  too,  had  been 
here  earlier  in  the  day,  for  just  within  scope  of  the 
firelight  was  the  carcass  of  a  young  deer,  while  on 
the  ground  a  pannier  of  various  provisions  lay  be- 
side the  arbor's  entrance.  Furthermore,  a  long  rid- 
ing-cloak had  been  spread  out  like  a  rug  in  the  nat- 
ural cell. 

"Master  Frazer  is  most  thoughtful  of  our  com- 
fort,'' observed  Gyll,  seating  herself  thereon,  with  a 
laugh.  But  Eleanor,  sinking  down,  fatigued  and 
despairing,  made  no  answer.  Meanwhile  their  cap- 
tor was  methodically  cutting  from  the  deer  a  steak, 
which  he  presently  held  over  the  fire  on  the  prongs 
of  a  green  crotch.  Soon  the  meat  sizzled  and  grew 
black,  whereupon,  turning  to  his  captives,  the  Indian 

182 


A  Tale    of  the    Lost  Colony 

held  it  out,  and,  with  a  gesture,  bade  them  eat.  Gyll 
laughed.     ''Are  we  to  devour  it  whole,  Towaye?'' 

The  Indian,  who,  thanlvs  to  his  sojourn  in  England, 
understood  their  language,  considered  the  question 
for  a  niinute;  then,  evidently  suspecting  that  Gyll 
thus  sought  to  obtain  a  weapon,  smiled  craftily,  laid 
down  the  meat,  and  proceeded  to  cut  it  up  with  a 
knife  of  Frazer's  resembling  a  Toledo  poniard.  Next, 
taking  the  pieces  in  his  fingers,  he  piled  them  on  a 
pewter  plate  which  he  drew  from  the  pannier,  and 
offered  his  guests  the  savory  dish  with  a  grunt  of 
hospitality. 

Again  Gyll  laughed.     ''But  our  hands  are  tied.'' 

Towaye  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and,  squatting 
on  the  ground,  held  his  wrists  together,  then  raised 
the  dark  fingers  to  liis  lips.  "This  way,''  he  said, 
"  prisoners  eat."  And  now,  turning  away,  he  busied 
himself  in  preparing  his  own  meal  of  venison. 

Gyll,  with  a  wry  face,  stood  upon  her  feet,  and, 
reaching  to  the  low  roof,  plucked  a  bunch  of  grapes — 
necessarily  with  both  hands  at  once — which  she  of- 
fered to  Eleanor.  Then,  having  provided  herself  with 
another  cluster,  she  sat  down  again  and  bit  off  the 
grapes  one  bj^  one,  with  evident  relish.  Eleanor, 
however,  only  looked  out  listlessly  to  the  crackling 
fire,  her  hands  clasped,  her  fingers  intertwined  with 
feverish  strength.  Tears  fell  slowly  on  the  forgot- 
ten fruit  in  her  lap,  causing  it  to  shine  like  a  clus- 
ter of  inestimable  rubies  in  the  firelight.  Her  face, 
even  now  like  a  child's,  but  very  spiritual  for  all  its 
witchery,  w^as  more  sad  than  fearful,  more  given  over 
to  an  expression  of  deep  distress  and  hopelessness 
than  to  terror  and  apprehension.  Her  hazel  eyes, 
moist  and  lustrous,  seemed  to  have  gained  a  new 
depth,  which  for  the  first  time  reached  to  her  very 
soul.     Their  look  was  a  prayer.     "  My  little  one,  my 

183 


John  Vytal 

little  Virginia/'  again  and  again  she  repeated  in- 
wardly, half  to  herself  and  half  to  a  Higher  Power — 
*'My  little  Virginia/'  Like  the  dull  surge  of  heavy, 
monotonous  surf,  her  thoughts  beat  upon  her  brain, 
now  in  comprehending  supplication,  now  in  mere 
unconscious  repetition,  until  suddenly  the  despair 
of  her  eyes  became  less  passive  and  more  intense. 
Another  name  sprang  into  the  ceaseless,  unuttera- 
ble murmur  and  all  but  escaped  her  pale  lips — ''  John 
Vytal/' 

Gyll  Croyden  lay,  with  elbows  on  the  ground  and 
chin  in  hand,  watching  her.  The  two  faces  presented 
a  striking  contrast,  Eleanor's  as  we  have  seen  it, 
Gyll's  an  almost  indescribable  paradox,  so  suggestive 
was  it  of  contradictory  emotions.  The  whole  expres- 
sion showed,  first,  that  she  had  utterly  forgotten  her 
plight  and  surroundings.  Eleanor's  face  absorbed 
her  thoughts,  thoughts  which  were,  apparently,  at 
odds.  In  her  unaccustomed  silence  there  was  con- 
sideration of  her  companion's  feelings ;  in  her  eyes 
an  uninistakable  admiration  and  kind  of  wonder; 
while  about  the  corners  of  her  mouth  a  look  of  iron- 
ical amusement  played  unforbidden.  Adding  an 
expression  more  serious — if  the  word  is  permissible 
in  connection  with  so  gay  a  face  —  her  brows  were 
contracted  defiantly.  And,  stranger  than  all,  a  keen 
observer  would  have  noted  an  unwonted  sadness, 
very  subtle,  that  lay  neither  in  this  feature  nor  in 
that,  but  rather,  as  it  were,  behind  them  all. 

At  last,  however,  the  defiance  assumed  sway;  the 
consideration  was  forgotten.  ''Kyt  says  all  men 
love  thee,"  she  observed,  critically;  ''now,  where- 
fore, I  wonder?"  and,  as  Eleanor  turned  to  her  in  si- 
lent surprise,  ''Wherefore  do  they  love  thee?  Thou 
hast  no  merry  jest  of  good  comradeship,  nor  yet  those 
subtler,  intoxicating  ways  to  madden  a  man  and  en- 

184 


A  Tale   of  the  Lost  Colony 

slave  him.  See  !  hast  ever  looked  at  men  like  this?" 
She  tossed  her  curls  back  and  smiled  roguishly, 
with  a  full  consciousness  of  her  beauty.  ''Or  this?" 
She  leaned  forward,  arms  outstretched  languorously, 
lips  slightly  parted,  lashes  drooping,  as  though  to 
veil  and  soften  the  light  of  her  eyes.  And  the  eyes 
were  now  shimmering,  alluring,  full  of  a  mystic, 
though  physical,  enthralment. 

Eleanor  drew  back,  with  a  tremor  of  repulsion. 

"  Oh,  you  recoil,"  said  Gyll,  laughing,  with  a  some- 
what hollow  mirth;  then,  mockingly:  ''And  why 
should  you  hold  aloof?  'Tis  better  to  be  a  woman 
than  a  statue — and  not  so  wonderful  a  statue,  after 
all.  Believe  me,  'tis  the  mere  poetry  of  the  thing 
entrances  addle-pated  Kyt — the  mere  delusion.  'Tis 
the  rhythm  wherewith  he  describes  you  to  himself. 
He  writes  of  you  in  plays,  he  calls  you  so-and-so 
in  this  and  that.  'Tis  all  fancy.  There  is  no  real 
you.  Indeed,  I  doubt  if  you  are  more  than  a  dream 
to  any  man.  Now,  I  am  an  actual,  vivid  desire." 
And  so  she  prattled  on  until,  at  last  pausing,  as  the 
firelight  grew  dimmer,  she  stretched  out  her  arms 
and  buried  her  head  in  them  on  Frazer's  cloak. 

Eleanor's  eyes,  cast  down  on  the  graceful  figure, 
grew  more  tender.  "I  am  so  sorry  for  you,"  she 
said,  "poor — "  but  Gyll  had  sprung  to  her  feet. 

"Sorry?  Sorry?"  she  demanded,  with  railing 
sarcasm.  "  Your  sympathies.  Mistress  Dare,  would 
better  be  directed  toward  yourself.  Sorry  !  Oh — ■ 
and  poor !  Hast  never  seen  my  wardrobe — the  rich 
broidered  stomacher,  the  rare  silk  and  sarsanet,  the 
fine  linen  of  my  smocks,  the  gold -fringed  roun- 
dels, drawn  out  with  cypress,  the  silken  simar  lined 
with  furs?  Methinks  the  governor's  lofty  daughter 
herself  has  no  such  raiment.  And  then  the  ear-rings 
of  silver  and  pearl,  the  necklaces  —  oh,  poor!     An 

185 


John  Vytal 

this  be  poverty,  I  rest  content  to  be  a  pauper.  Poor, 
indeed !     Poor  I"  and  she  laughed  as  at  an  absurdity. 

Eleanor  could  not  comprehend  the  tone.  She  never 
knew  whether  Gyll  had  wilfully  misinterpreted  the 
adjective,  or  whether  its  true  meaning  had  sunk  down 
into  the  woman's  heart  and  only  hardened  it  the  more. 
''I  pray  you  keep  silent,''  she  said,  in  a  low  voice; 
''incontinent  laughter  and  vanity  seem  little  suited 
to  our  condition." 

Gyll  responded  with  a  grimace  that  was  by  no  means 
pretty,  and  puckered  ujd  the  corners  of  her  mouth, 
which  had  never  been  made  for  sarcasm.  Never- 
theless she  obeyed  with  silence,  as  gradually  the  pres- 
ent circumstances  were  borne  in  upon  her  again,  re- 
called, no  doubt,  by  Eleanor's  words.  She  looked  down 
at  Towaye,  who  sat  near  the  entrance,  busily  occu- 
pied in  extracting  the  marrow  from  a  shank  of  veni- 
son. Then  her  eyes  fell  to  the  pannier  behind  him, 
and  particularly  upon  one  of  the  objects  it  contained. 
She  lay  down  again  upon  the  ground,  and,  gazing 
up  at  the  gnarled  and  braided  branches  of  the  ar- 
bor's roof,  appeared  to  have  forgotten  her  outburst. 
At  last,  with  a  seeming  purpose  wholly  foreign  to  her 
usual  manner,  she  whispered  a  suggestion  in  Elea- 
nor's ear,  concluding  with,  ''It  is  at  least  a  chance." 

"  Yes,  but,  failing,  the  result  would  be  terrible,  un- 
imaginable.    Besides,  he  is  too  cautious." 

Gyll  shook  her  head  knowingly.  "Wait  and  see." 

Then,  seating  herself  near  the  grassy  threshold  of 
the  arbor,  she  spoke  in  a  louder  tone,  still  address- 
ing Eleanor.  "Master  Frazer  is  well  provided.  I 
see  that  his  friends  have  sent  him  wine  from  the  ship. 
A  bottle's  neck  looks  temptingly  out  of  the  pannier. 
Wine,  wine !  'twas  for  gods  that  grapes  were  grown. 
Hast  ever  felt  the  thrill,  the  pleasant  effects  of  the 
golden   liquid?"      She   paused,  listening.     Towaye 

i86 


A  Tale  of  the  Lost  Colony- 
was  no  longer  gnawing  his  marrow-bone.  "Ven- 
ison and  wine  !  'Tis  the  dinner  of  kings ;  and,  be- 
sides, when  one  dies  of  thirst  as  we  do — ''  her  voice 
fell  lower,  but  purposely  not  too  low  for  the  jailer's 
ears.     ^'Wait.     I  can  reach  it.'' 

She  moved  nearer  to  the  entrance,  intentionally 
rustling  leaves  and  grasses  as  she  did  so.  Her  ban- 
daged hands  reached  out.  But  the  Indian's  dusky 
arm,  with  quick  stealth,  forestalled  her.  It  was  for 
this  that  she  had  hoped.  Greedily,  yet  half  fearfulh^ 
Towaye  seized  the  bottle.  She  saw  him  turn  it  about 
in  his  fingers  for  an  instant,  inspecting  it  from  neck 
to  bottom  much  as  a  child  survej^s  a  new  toy,  won- 
derful and  strange  beyond  comprehension.  And, 
as  a  child,  he  seemed  half  in  fear  because  of  the  mys- 
terj^.  To  avoid  temptation,  he  turned  about  toward 
the  arbor,  and  Gyll  noticed  the  awe  underlying  his 
desire.  Presently  he  spoke.  ''In  England  Manteo 
said,  'Drink  not.  There  is  an  evil  spell  in  w^ine. 
The  sunlight  therein  is  angry  at  being  imprisoned 
and  not  free  as  on  the  water.  Behold  how  it  affects 
the  English,  turning  them  to  madmen.  Learn,  and 
drink  not.'  These  were  the  words  of  Manteo.  He  is 
a  wise  counsellor." 

Gyll  laughed.  "Wise,  I  doubt  not,"  said  she, 
"  but  deceived.  Wine  is  rather  the  cure  for  madness 
— the  madness  of  thirst,  suffering,  cold,  and  all  that 
tortures  men.     I  pray  you  give  it  to  us." 

Seeming  reassured  bj^  her  words,  and  yet  more  by 
her  apparent  desire  to  drink  the  mj^sterious  liquid 
herself,  Towaye  grunted  a  refusal.  "It  is  not  for 
women,"  he  said,  cunningly.     "It  is  for  men." 

She  bit  her  lip  to  refrain  from  smiling,  and  drew 
back  beyond  the  circle  of  firelight. 

Taking  Frazer's  poniard  in  his  right  hand  and  still 
holding  the  bottle  in  his  left,  Towaye  hesitated.    Yet 

187 


John  Vytal 

suddenly  an  inborn  passion,  until  to-day  latent  in  him, 
but  common  to  all  the  human  race,  predominated. 
His  mouth  watered;  he  must  taste  the  forbidden 
fruit.  The  women  heard  a  little  crash,  and  the  glass 
neck  fell  off  under  a  blow  from  the  poniard's  blade. 
Frazer's  own  weapon,  left  as  a  precaution  with  the 
Indian,  had  turned  against  him. 

Towaye  drank,  and  drank  again.  Gyll  peered 
out  and  saw  his  head  fall  back  slowly  as,  gradually 
inverting  the  bottle  until  it  stood  bottom  up,  he  drain- 
ed its  contents  to  the  dregs. 

At  this  moment  Gyll  Croyden  did  an  unaccountable 
thing.  Raising  her  bound  hands  to  the  crown  of  her 
head,  she  surprised  Eleanor  by  untying  a  short  scar- 
let ribbon  that  confined  her  hair,  and  instantly  a  ra- 
diant cascade  of  gold  rippled  and  rioted  downward, 
completely  enveloping  her.  ''Watch  now  a  piece 
of  play-acting.     'Twould  delight  Kyt's  heart.'' 

Towaye  rose  and  entered  the  arbor.  His  features 
were  distinctly  visible,  for  the  fire,  being  on  the  ground 
partly  to  one  side  of  the  opening,  cast  its  gleam  up 
even  to  the  roof  of  grapes  and  obliquely  athwart  the 
intruder's  face.  His  hands,  now  empty,  were  half 
outstretched,  palms  forward,  fingers  bent  as  though 
to  grasp  something. 

Eleanor  drew  back  with  a  cry  of  terror.  For  a  mo- 
ment the  dark  form,  naked  save  for  an  apron  of  deer- 
skin, stood  motionless.  Then,  with  a  guttural  mon- 
osyllable in  his  own  tongue,  Towaye  started  forward. 
Slowly  Gyll  arose  and  faced  him.  The  fire,  with  a 
final  high  flare,  lit  up  her  hair.  The  long  tresses,  fall- 
ing in  ripples  below  her  knees  and  completely  veiling 
her  face,  shone  like  a  flood  of  sunlight.  But  for  the 
minute  his  savage  eyes  and  heavy  steps  were  directed 
to  Eleanor. 

Gyll  spoke,  and  the  Indian  stopped  short  to  look  at 

i88 


A  Tale   of  the  Lost  Colony 

her.  ''Towaj^e/'  she  said,  in  a  voice  that  sounded 
far  away  behind  the  golden  curtain  of  her  hair/'  hark ! 
You  stand  before  the  Daughter  of  the  Sun.  Advance 
no  farther,  or  the  fire  that  inflames  your  brain  shall 
burn  your  body  also/'  She  paused.  Her  knowl- 
edge of  Indian  theology  was  hopelessly  scant  and 
indefinite.  She  had  heard  that  somewhere,  in  some 
part  of  this  vast  America,  there  was  a  people  who 
worshipped  the  sun.  Might  not  a  like  heliolatry  be 
induced  here,  even  though  the  Hatteras  tribe  ac- 
knowledged no  such  deity?  ''I,  the  Daughter  of 
the  Sun,  command  you!  Leave  me!''  She  thrust 
her  hands  through  the  shining  locks  and  held  them 
aloft  as  though  to  weave  a  spell.  ''See,  Towa^^e. 
Even  now  the  spell  of  the  Sun  enthralls  thee.  Thy 
legs  tremble  and  waver."  She  swayed  slightly  to 
and  fro  to  increase  his  own  unsteadiness.  ''Thy 
brain  whirls  as  the  flame  of  a  camp-fire.  Thy 
thoughts  clutch  at  dreams.  In  an  instant  thou  shalt 
be  consumed." 

The  Indian  groaned  and  staggered  backward. 
Her  voice  came  lower.  "Leave  me,  Towaye!  The 
Daughter  of  the  Sun  hath  spoken!" 

He  stepped  back,  imtil  his  knees  weakened  suddenly 
and  he  sank  moaning  to  the  ground.  His  head  lay 
against  the  vim^  side  of  the  natural  doorway;  his 
gleaming  bod^^  stretched  across  the  threshold.  Long 
the  heavy  lids  blinked  with  a  great  effort  to  keep 
awake;  but  the  mind,  utterly  unaccustomed  to  the 
fumes  of  wine,  succumbed  at  last.     He  fell  asleep. 

Gyll  pulled  her  skirts  above  the  knee,  and,  beck- 
oning to  her  companion,  would  have  stepped  over  the 
prone  figure  had  not  Eleanor  detained  her.  ''It 
cannot  last.  We  shall  lose  ourselves  in  the  woods 
and  he  will  readilj^  overtake  us.     Then — " 

"Ay,  you   are  right,"    said   Gyll.     "I   had   not 

189 


John   Vytal 

thought  of  that;  'twould  indeed  be  madness/'  And 
the  two  women,  once  more  seating  themselves  in  a 
comer,  surveyed  the  human  barrier  before  them. 

As  the  firelight  waned,  G3dl  lay  on  her  back  again, 
looking  up  at  the  tracery  of  interlaced  grape-vines 
which  were  now  but  vague  arabesques  on  the  leafy 
ceiling.  The  Indian's  head  rested  on  a  similar  vine, 
which  formed  a  pendent  arc,  a  shadowy  crescent,  be- 
neath his  neck.  With  a  sidelong  glance  at  the  re- 
cumbent figure,  and  particularly  at  the  head's  post- 
ure, Gyll  saw^  that  the  low -hanging  vine  on  which 
the  cranium  rested  was  about  three  inches  thick  and 
very  strong ;  moreover,  it  was  braided  like  a  woman's 
hair.  ''Like  a  woman's  hair."  Several  times  her 
thoughts  repeated  the  simile,  and  grew  more  daring 
with  the  repetition.  She  whispered  to  Eleanor,  and 
then,  a  second  time  lifting  her  skirts  well  above  the 
knee,  stepped  over  Towaye  and  out  of  the  arbor.  Her 
tread  was  wonderfully  light  and  soundless.  Near 
the  fire  she  stooped  and  picked  up  something  from  the 
ground  that  lay  near  a  birch  bow  and  a  bundle  of 
flint-headed  arrows.  Eleanor  saw  her  bending  figure, 
the  petticoats  still  raised  to  prevent  their  rustling  on 
the  leaves,  the  red  silk  hose,  the  golden  cataract  of 
hair,  and  remembered  that  picture  always. 

Gyll  returned.  Frazer's  poniard  was  in  her  hand. 
Once  within  the  arbor  she  appeared  to  hesitate  as  with 
a  new  purpose,  and  lifted  her  weapon  as  though  to 
strike  the  swarthy  breast,  but  could  not.  Her  poised 
arm  seemed  paralyzed.  Eleanor,  who  uttered  a  low 
whisper  of  horrified  remonstrance,  need  not  have  done 
so.  The  impulse  was  there,  but  the  masculine  nerve 
and  implacability  were  lacking.  She  resumed  her 
first  purpose.  Cutting  the  silken  band  about  her  fel- 
low-prisoner's wrists,  she  requested  Eleanor  to  re- 
spond in  kind.     Their  hands  were  at  last  free.     GyW 

190 


A  Tale    of  the   Lost   Colony 

hesitated,  turning  the  bandages  about  in  her  fingers. 
"  Nay/'  she  said  at  last,  "  he  could  easily  tear  them/' 

For  a  moment  she  smoothed  out  her  tresses  on  her 
knee,  passing  a  palm  over  them  caressingly.  Tears 
fell  and  mingled  with  the  gold  Her  bosom  was  heav- 
ing. Catching  up  the  long  strand  in  a  mass,  she 
held  it  to  her  lips  and  kissed  it  passionately.  But 
then  her  weeping  ceased  with  a  little  gulp  of  determi- 
nation, and  she  held  out  the  curling  ends  to  Eleanor. 
''Hold  them  thus,''  and  she  raised  the  poniard 
quickly  to  her  head.  In  an  instimt  the  tumbling 
cascade  had  become  a  river  of  gold  on  the  ground, 
glimmering  in  the  light  of  the  outer  embers.  With 
deft  fingers  Gyll  twisted  the  locks  tightly,  but  left 
both  ends  loose  as  they  had  fallen.  Then  she  passed 
the  coil  over  the  Indian's  head  until  it  reached  his 
throat.  Next  she  twined  it  above  and  beneath  the 
stout,  depending  branch  that  formed  his  pillow.  At 
the  nape  of  his  neck  she  braided  the  loose  strands 
firmly  together,  while  in  and  out  amid  the  tresses 
she  intertwined  the  galloon  of  ribbon  which  had  pre- 
viously decked  her  head.  Finally  she  made  fast  this 
strange  bond  with  a  hard  knot  in  the  ribbon  whose 
scarlet  ends  were  at  last  bound  high  above  him  to  an 
overhanging  vine.  Then,  with  a  signal  to  Eleanor, 
who  was  now  lost  in  the  excitement  of  the  moment, 
being  not  a  whit  behind  the  other  in  courage,  Gyll 
stepped  across  the  barrier,  and,  with  the  poniard  and 
birch  bow  in  her  hands,  led  the  way  to  the  glade's 
entrance. 

In  a  moment  they  had  regained  the  trail.  Here 
they  paused,  listening,  undecided  whether  to  hide  in 
the  dense  jungle  or  to  follow  the  pathwaj^.  Towaye, 
however,  only  snored  in  sleep.  He  had  moved  slight- 
ly on  feeling  the  ringlets  touch  his  throat,  but  the 
wine  still  possessed  him. 

191 


John  Vytal 

Night  and  day  met.  The  intermediate  hour  of 
dawn  brought  a  dim  gray  Ught  to  the  tree- tops.  Like 
a  sih^er-green  ocean  the  high  surface  of  birch  and 
willow  foliage,  stirred  by  the  whisper  of  a  morning 
breeze,  murmured  response  from  its  distant  border 
where  the  surf  of  leaves  broke  slowly  into  spray. 

The  sun  rose  and  fathomed  the  forest  obliquely 
where  it  could.  By  the  slant  of  its  rays  the  women 
gained  some  knowledge  of  their  position,  and,  keep- 
ing the  sun  on  their  right,  followed  the  trail  in  a 
northerly  direction.  For  an  hour  they  went  on  with- 
out stopping  or  turning  to  look  behind. 

But  at  last  they  came  to  a  sudden  halt,  hearing  a 
step  even  lighter  than  their  own  just  beyond  a  bend 
in  the  trail  ahead  of  them.  Drawing  to  one  side  be- 
hind a  wild  hedge -row  in  the  forest,  they  waited, 
breathless.  The  low  rustle  ceased.  The  person  ap- 
proaching them  had  evidently  come  to  a  stand-still. 
Then,  through  the  brambles,  they  saw  a  figure,  dusky 
and  bare  save  for  a  girdle  of  deerskin.  The  head 
was  hidden  by  an  oak -branch.  GylFs  lips  came 
close  to  Eleanor's  ear.     ''  'Tis  Towaye!'' 

"No;  he  is  too  tall.'' 

The  man  stepped  forward  a  pace  and  stood  like  a 
stag,  listening.  Eleanor  grasped  Gyll's  arm,  com- 
pelling silence,  while  Gyll  herself  nervously  tightened 
her  hold  on  the  dagger's  handle. 

Again  the  Indian  advanced,  and  now  turned  toward 
them.  Seeing  his  face,  the  two  women  rose  to  their 
feet  behind  the  wall  of  briars.     ''Manteol" 

An  hour  later  the  cressets  of  the  fortress  armory 
cast  their  glare  across  many  grave  and  apprehensive 
faces  whose  concern  was  heightened  by  an  enforced 
silence. 

"Say  nothing  of  Mistress  Dare;  he  will  consider 

192 


A   Tale   of  the    Lost    Colony 

it  his  duty  to  go  in  search  of  her,  and  must  not."  The 
words  were  Marlowe's. 

Out  in  the  halhvay.  Governor  White,  pale  and  hag- 
gard, was  giving  orders  to  a  small  company  of  sol- 
diers, who,  though  worn  out  with  fatigue,  were  re- 
arming themselves  as  though  for  a  second  combat. 
" To  the  south!  0  my  good  men,  hasten!  We  must 
pursue.  Even  now,  perchance,  we  are  too  late.  But 
stay  .  .  .  Who  comes?  .  .  .  No  .  .  .  there  is  no  need 
.  .  .  Ah,  my  daughter  Eleanor,  you  are  here!" 

Thus,  at  the  very  moment  of  the  governor's  out- 
starting,  which,  to  his  despair,  had  been  so  long  de- 
layed by  the  battle,  Eleanor  returned. 

''My  father!"  Her  eyes  were  moist  with  tears, 
her  hands  caressed  him,  but  even  now  she  could  not 
wait.  The  armory's  door  stood  open.  ''Virginia, 
little  Virginia,"  she  said  in  the  old,  half-mechanical 
way,  yet  still  very  anxiously. 

"  She  is  asleep  and  well." 

"And — "  But  she  could  not  voice  the  question 
of  her  heart. 

The  governor  smiled  in  his  kindly,  unknowing 
way.  "Yes;  Ananias,  too,  is  safe.  Yet  a  terrible 
battle  hath  been  fought." 

She  stood  for  an  instant  mute  and  motionless,  the 
dread  anguish  of  uncertainty  in  her  eyes.  Then 
she  hurried  into  the  armory. 

Here  the  first  sight  that  met  her  searching  glance 
was  her  child  sleeping  in  Margery  Harvie's  arms. 
She  bent  over  and  kissed  it  on  the  forehead — once; 
then  turned  to  a  group  of  men  who  stood  in  a  corner 
encircling  a  central,  recumbent  figure  that  was  rest- 
ing on  a  bare  settle  of  oak. 

A  low  moan  rose  in  her  heart,  and  whether  or  not 
it  escaped  her  lips  she  never  knew. 

On  the  settle  lay  John  Vytal,  prostrate  and  uncon- 
N  193 


John  Vytal 

scious,  his  left  arm  extended  to  the  floor,  to  which 
his  half-sheathed  sword  had  fallen,  the  belt  having 
been  unbuckled  that  his  corselet  might  be  unloosed. 
His  fingers  tenaciously  grasped  the  scabbard.  The 
right  hand  lay  across  his  breast,  which  had  been 
bared  that  a  chirurgeon,  who  stood  near  by,  might 
listen  to  the  heart-beats.  Under  the  head  of  the 
wounded  man  a  folded  cloak  had  been  placed  as 
a  pillow,  and  his  morion,  having  been  removed,  re- 
vealed a  great  black  and  gray  flecked  mane  of  hair, 
brushed  back  to  cool  his  forehead.  The  brow  itself, 
streaked  with  crimson,  showed  a  deep  line  from  tem- 
ple to  temple  where  the  helmet  had  cut  into  it.  The 
face,  as  thou  -h  chiselled  in  bronze,  was  still  stern 
and  rel'  save  for  a  grim,  triumphant  look  of 

victory  ...  \e  in  the  sharp  features  like  the  cres- 

set-light across  his  sword. 

Marlowe  stood  erect,  watching  him,  until  suddenly 
a  voice,  inarticulate,  low,  and  questioning,  seemed  to 
break  the  spell  that  bound  them  all  to  the  depths  of 
anxious  silence. 

Marlowe  turned.  ''Thank  God!''  he  said,  ''you 
are  saved.  Speak  to  him.''  And,  with  all  the  re- 
lief in  the  poet's  voice,  there  was  a  note  of  pain ;  for 
he  had  read  her  eyes. 

"Captain  Vytal." 

The  soldier  stirred  as  though  in  an  abyss  of  sleep, 
his  breast  heaving  slightly. 

"John  Vytal."  The  name  was  spoken  in  a  low 
voice,  yet,  far  away  in  the  world  that  sound  and  sight 
fathom  not  by  utterance  or  gaze,  but  only  by  their 
meaning,  one  spirit  was  calling  to  another. 

The  captT.in  opened  his  eyes  slowly. 

"ThanKs  be  to  Heaven!"  And  Marlowe  turned  to 
Eleanor.     "Your  salvation  is  his  as  well." 

Vytal's   lips    parted.     "Salvation?    What   mean 

194 


A  Tale   of  the  Lost  Colony 

you  by  salvation?''  He  forced  himself  to  sit  upright, 
and  his  voice  rose  harsh  as  a  night  wind.  ''Has 
Mistress  Dare  been  nigh  to  danger?'' 

Neither  Marlowe  nor  Eleanor  made  answer,  but 
Gyll  Croyden,  who  now  had  joined  the  group,  replied, 
laughing :  "  Ay,  that  have  we  both.  Master  Ralph 
Contempt  and  Towaye  snared  us  cunningly,  but  a 
wench's  wit  outdid  them,  and,  alas!  a  wench's  hair." 

She  stroked  her  close-cut  curls  dolefully. 

Vytal  staggered  to  his  feet,  and,  facing  Marlowe, 
questioned  him  like  a  judge  of  the  Inquisition: 
"  Wherefore  didst  thou  not  make  this  known  to  me?" 

The  poet  met  his  gaze  unflinchingly.  "  I  thought — " 

''Thought!"  The  word  was  repeated  in  a  frigid, 
biting  tone.  "Thought!  'Twas  not  your  right  to 
think.  The  daughter  of  our  governor  was  in  jeop- 
ardy." 

"  Yes,  captain,  and  our  colony  also.  I  deemed  it 
advisable  not  to  pit  one  duty  against  another.  On 
coming  ashore  after  the  battle  I  would  have  told  you, 
but  you  had  swooned." 

Vytal  looked  at  him  in  silence ;  then,  finally  sink- 
ing down  again  to  a  sitting  posture,  "  You  were  right, 
Kyt,"  and  his  eyes  met  Eleanor's — "  'Twas  for  our 
colony." 

"I  pray  you  rest,"  she  said.  "Your  strength  is 
spent." 

But  he  sat  bolt-upright  and  made  as  if  to  rebuckle 
his  sword-belt  in  a  dazed,  automatic  way.  ''Nay, 
madam;  it  is  unimpaired." 

At  about  this  time  a  solitary  man,  far  to  the  south- 
ward, struck  inland  from  the  shore.  It  was  Frazer, 
returning  from  a  defeat  to  what  he  believed  was  to 
be  the  scene  of  a  conquest  which  should  retrieve  it. 

On  coming  to  the  glade,  however,  and  to  the  arbor 

195 


John  Vytal 

in  which  Eleanor  and  Gyll  Croyden  had  been  im- 
prisoned, he  stood  still  before  the  threshold  in  mute 
astonishment.  There,  near  the  ashes  of  a  fire,  lay 
Towaye,  basking  in  the  sunlight,  sound  asleep. 
Amazedly  the  youth  started  forward  and  peered  into 
the  arbor.  It  was  empty.  Assuring  himself  of  this, 
he  stamped  and  swore  roundly,  but,  with  a  second 
glance  at  the  slumbering  Indian,  his  expression 
changed.  A  sense  of  humor  asserted  itself  above 
chagrin  and  even  astonishment  in  the  boyish  eyes. 
"  How  now?''  he  laughed.  ''  Tis  a  court  masque.  Lo, 
a  golden  necklace  and  beribboned  peruke  garnish 
our  Lucifer!"  He  shook  Towaye  none  too  gently 
with  his  foot.  The  Indian,  rolling  over,  rubbed  his 
eyes  and  strove  to  sit  upright,  but  his  bond  held 
him  fast  to  the  stout  grape-vine.  "1  dreamed  that 
I  tried  once  before,"  he  said,  in  sleepy  bewilder- 
ment ;  ''  but  the  Daughter  of  the  Sun  hath  woven  a 
spell." 

"Fool!"  ejaculated  Frazer. 

"Nay,  no  fool.  'Twas  she  and  the  captive  sun- 
light which,  escaping  its  bondage,  entered  my  body 
at  her  command  and  overpowered  it." 

Frazer 's  eyes,  falling  on  an  empty  bottle,  brought 
him  comprehension,  and  his  thoughts  went  back  to 
another  bottle  which  but  recently  had  worked  his 
own  failure.  The  remembrance  decreased  his  se- 
verity. He  unbraided  the  peruke,  ''like  a  barber," 
he  said,  and  bade  the  Indian  join  him  in  pursuing 
the  women. 

At  this  Sir  Walter  St.  Magil,  who  had  followed 
him  from  the  shore,  entered  the  opening.  "  I  have 
come  in  search  of  you." 

"Unbidden!"  returned  Frazer,  hotly. 

St.  Magil  smiled.  "You  will  not  remonstrate  on 
hearing  the  cause." 

196 


A  Tale   of  the    Lost  Colony 
''Nay,  for  I  have  not  the  time.     No  cause  delays 


me." 


''Whither  go  you,  then?'' 

Frazer  made  no  answer. 

"Ah,  for  some  liaison,  I  doubt  not.  Mark  me,  a 
woman  will  work  your  downfall.'' 

The  youth  laughed  carelessly,  and  would  have 
gone  away,  but  his  friend  detained  him.  "A  ship 
from  Spain  has  joined  the  Madre  de  Dios.  We  re- 
turn across  the  seas.     Philip  will  invade  England." 

Frazer  started,  trembled.  His  cheeks  flushed,  a 
new  light  shone  in  the  blue  eyes.  The  whole  ex- 
pression read :  Ambition. 

"Invade  England!" 

"Yes;  with  an  armada  so  great  that  the  issue 
is  foregone.  Naturally,  your  Highness" — the  title 
came  half  ironical,  half  serious  —  "will  want  to  step 
first  on  English  soil,  no  more  as  Ralph  Contempt  or 
Frazer." 

"Nay,  no  more."     The  echo  sounded  dreamy. 

"Now,"  pursued  St.  Magil,  "we  have  bigger  fish 
to  fry  than  these  of  Virginia.  Roanoke  is  but  a  min- 
now, England  a  whale." 

Frazer's  lips  parted,  smiling.  "  I  have  had  many 
names,"  he  said,  "but  the  whale  unpleasantly  sug- 
gests a  new  one — Jonah  !  Now,  a  minnow — "  but 
he  was  only  babbling  words  detached  from  thoughts, 
all-expectant,  bewildered,  glad,  eager,  like  a  child  on 
Christmas  Eve. 

"Your  Highness,"  observed  the  other,  "will  make 
a  merry — " 

"Hush,  Sir  Walter,  you  tempt  Fortune." 


CHAPTER   XVI 

"What,  rebels,  do  you  shrink  and  sound  retreat?" 

— Marlowe,  in  Edward  the  Second. 

We  come  now  to  a  mile-stone  in  the  road  of  Time, 
a  mere  pebble  it  may  seem  to  some,  but  to  the  colony 
of  Roanoke  it  marked  a  sudden  turning  in  Life's 
pathway. 

Perhaps  nothing  is  more  unaccountably  inconsist- 
ent than  the  action  of  men  under  new  and  strange 
conditions.  As  there  is  no  precedent  to  predict  the 
issue,  reason  falls  back  upon  itself,  and  fails;  the 
unexpected  happens.  Even  keen  perception  and 
an  intimate  knowledge  of  human  nature  confound 
the  rule  with  its  exception,  trying  to  solve  the  prob- 
lem by  its  proofs,  or  to  prove  it  by  the  solution. 

The  colonists  of  Roanoke  had  fought  bravely  for 
their  rights.  Surely  men  like  these  could  be  abashed 
by  nothing.  But  to  make  war  against  a  present, 
actual  enemy  and  against  obscure,  slow-moving 
Destiny  are  different  matters.  Many  are  fitted  for 
one  or  the  other  contest,  few  for  both. 

On  a  morning  early  in  September  numerous  plant- 
ers and  soldiers,  led  by  Ananias  Dare,  stood  before 
the  house  of  Governor  White.  The  governor  himself 
was  in  his  doorway,  listening  sadly  to  their  appeal. 

''We  have  been  so  weakened  in  numbers,''  said 
Ananias,  ''  that  there  is  but  one  chance  left.  ''  It  is 
true  the  Spanish  ship  has  not  reappeared,  but  who 
shall  say  that  a  force  far  more  powerful  may  not 

198 


John  Vytal;  A  Tale  of  the  Lost  Colony 

at  any  time  return  against  us?  The  Admiral  and 
fly-boat  go  back,  as  you  know,  to  England,  neces- 
sarily in  charge  of  Captain  Pomp,  who  alone  is  fitted 
to  command  them,  and  of  several  mariners.  This, 
however,  is  not  enough.     Let  us  all  return/' 

The  governor  looked  from  the  face  of  his  son-in- 
law  to  the  many  others,  and,  with  dismay,  found 
only  agreement  in  their  expressions.  "  What  mean 
you?''  he  asked,  helplessly.  "  Cannot  all  the  planters 
and  chartered  officers  wait  yet  longer?  Others  will 
come,  I  doubt  not,  from  England  without  our  seeking. 
To  return  as  the  earlier  settlers  did  will  cast  discredit 
not  only  on  us,  but  upon  this  great  land  of  which  a 
part  is  now  our  country's."  He  paused,  seeking 
vainly  for  looks  of  acquiescence. 

''Nay,  we  can  return  anon,"  said  Ananias,  'Svith 
more  husbandmen  to  superintend  the  raising  of  our 
crops ;  with  more  soldiers  to  defend  us,  and  artificers 
to  enlarge  our  town ;  with  additional  supplies,  of  which 
we  are  in  so  sore  a  need — "  he  broke  off  suddenly, 
his  wife  appearing  at  an  open  window  near  the  door. 
The  child  was  in  her  arms.  There  was  a  long  silence, 
but  at  last  the  governor  spoke  again. 

"  Some  must,  of  a  surety,  stay.  This  dominion  is  a 
charge  not  to  be  forsaken  utterly.  Who,  then,  must 
needs  depart?" 

Ananias  hesitated,  seeing  the  question  repeated  in 
Eleanor's  eyes.  For  a  time,  as  the  governor  searched 
their  faces,  no  man  gave  answer,  a  few  because  the 
plan  really  pained  them,  more  merely  realizing  that 
it  would  wound  another.  JMoreover,  they  felt  a  cer- 
tain shame  bom  of  the  prearranged  suggestion.  At 
this  moment  Christopher  Marlowe  and  Roger  Prat, 
having  left  Vylal  in  the  fortress,  joined  the  group, 
curious  to  learn  what  was  going  forward. 

At  length  Ananias  summoned  up  his  courage. 

199 


John   Vytal 

"We  must  go/'  he  said^  in  a  voice  that  strove  to  hide 
eagerness  beneath  a  tone  suggesting  sacrifice.  "  You 
and  Eleanor,  I,  and  as  many  others  as  choose  to  ac- 
company us." 

The  governor's  kindly  eyes  grew  moist.  ''I  go?'' 
he  asked,  falteringly — ''I?"  He  questioned  them 
with  a  sorrowful  look  that  embraced  the  whole  gath- 
ering; but  the  men  nodded  their  heads  gravely. 
''Who,  then,  would  remain  to  govern  and  foster  you? 
I  should  be  the  stigma  and  laughing-stock  of  Eng- 
land. Our  charter  is  in  my  name  and  in  the  names 
of  my  twelve  assistants.  Who,  I  ask  you,  has  the 
right  to  become  governor  in  my  stead?" 

To  this  the  voice  of  all  gave  response,  with  one 
accord:   '' John  Vytal. "  ^ 

"  Yes,"  echoed  Ananias,  "  John  Vytal.  He  is  best 
fitted  for  it;  you  for  the  request  at  court.  Your 
influence,  your — "  but  he  was  suddenly  interrupted, 

A  clear,  feminine  voice  spoke  from  the  window, 
and  Eleanor  handed  her  child  to  Margery  Harvie, 
who  stood  within  the  room.  ''  It  shall  not  be!  Leave 
our  colony,  our  home?  Leave  that  which  we  have 
bought  with  so  much  blood  and  suffering?  Desert 
our  sacred  trust?  Cancel  by  cowardice  the  debt  we 
owx  to  God  and  the  queen?  Oh,  my  friends,  we  came 
not  hither  for  this.  I  beseech  you,  I  command  you, 
consider,  and  fling  not  your  honor  thus  away!"  Her 
eyes  were  flashing  now,  their  first  cold  scorn  of  An- 
anias lost  in  love  for  the  people,  yet  in  burning  in- 
dignation at  their  unforeseen  demand.  One  hand 
was  on  the  sill,  the  other  on  the  casement  at  her  side. 
Her  cheeks,  first  pale  with  contempt  for  the  spokes- 
man, were  flushed  now  with  deep  crimson ;  her  voice 
was  all  the  more  eloquent  of  its  tremor.  ''Can  you 
not  look  beyond  the  present?  Can  you  not  see  that, 
as  my  father  says,  many  more  will  follow  us  from 

200 


A  Tale  of  the  Lost  Colony- 
England?  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  hath  promised  that 
new  expeditions  and  increased  numbers  shall  share 
our  home  if  we  succeed.  If  ive  succeed !  Can  there 
be  an  'if  before  that  word  '  succeed ' ?  Was  there 
an  'if  in  your  hearts  when  you  fought  against 
our  Spanish  foe?  Nay,  nay,  my  brothers.  Failure 
must  not  be  within  our  ken.  Have  you  no  care  for 
•the  great  future?  Is  it  no  joy  to  think  that  by  our 
own  efforts  a  vast  nation  may  build  upon  the  corner- 
stone we  lay?  Who  knows?  Are  we  not  perchance 
sowing  that  England  and  all  the  world  may  reap 
some  unimaginable  benefit  thereby?  The  land  is 
fair — you  know  better  than  I  its  bounteous  offerings 
and  boundless  scope — and,  being  fair,  shall  we  then 
desecrate  it  with  the  smirch  of  cowardice?  Oh,  my 
friends,  I  pray  you  reconsider!''  Her  voice  sank 
lower  in  the  final  plea. 

A  dull  murmur  ran  through  the  group,  whether 
of  approbation  or  disapproval  she  could  not  tell. 

Marlowe  started.  ''  It  will  kill  Vytal, ''  he  muttered, 
as  though  to  himself,  and,  on  hearing  this,  the  stout 
soldier  beside  him  looked  bewildered. 

''Kill  Vytal!''  repeated  Roger.  "Gad,  man,  what 
mean  you?''  But  now  his  eyes,  rolling  up  to  look  at 
Eleanor,  showed  that  suddenly  he  had  understood. 

Then  Roger  Prat  seized  the  thread  of  the  Fates  in 
his  own  impulsive  hand  and  wove  it  into  a  strange 
pattern,  whether  for  ill  or  good,  none  could  tell. 

Swaggering  forward,  he  elbowed  his  way  through 
the  crowd  until  he  stood  before  the  governor.  Then 
he  spoke  in  a  low  voice.  "  It  cannot  be  averted.  I 
have  seen  men  thus  bewitched  on  the  eve  of  battle. 
I  have  cursed,  laughed,  coaxed,  scolded,  all  without 
avail.  And  I,  you  know,  have  great  influence,  both 
with  sword  and — and  tabor,  which  is  scarce  less 
to  be  considered.     But  retreat  gets  into  their  quak- 

201 


John  Vytal 

ing  hearts.  The  mischief  is  irreparable.  There- 
fore, under  your  favor,  acting  for  Captain  Vytal,  I 
will  divide  them  as  is  my  custom  in  a  war — they 
who  would  go  and  they  who  would  remain.  Thus 
we  can  know  men  from  chickens.'' 

The  governor,  sighing,  hesitated.  ''Must  it  be?'' 
he  asked,  half  aloud. 

"We  shall  see,"  said  Prat,  and  White  inclined  his 
head  in  permission. 

Roger  turned  and  faced  the  gathering.  ''Divide 
yourselves,  my  masters.  His  Excellency  commands 
that  they  who  would  desert — I  mean  return — stand 
still,  while  they  who  would  remain  at  Roanoke  un- 
der Captain  Vytal  come  nearer." 

The  crowd  wavered,  only  Marlowe  and  Dyonis 
Harvie  stepping  forward. 

"Ah,"  observed  Prat,  "a  goodly  throng!  One, 
two,  and  I  make  three ;  then  the  captain,  Hugh  Rouse, 
and  King  Lud  make  six.  Body  o'  me!  'Tis  in- 
deed an  invincible  company  left  to  defend  the  settle- 
ment." He  wagged  his  head,  and,  turning  to  the 
governor,  stood  at  salute  between  Christopher  and 
Dyonis.     "We  are  ready,  your  Excellency." 

There  was  something  so  pathetically  appealing 
in  the  humor  which  had  marshalled  three  men  as 
though  they  were  an  army  that  the  consciences  of 
many  on-lookers  smote  them,  until  first  one,  then 
another  and  another,  went  forward  and  stood  beside 
the  military  file.  Before  long  some  threescore  were 
elbow  to  elbow,  back  to  breast,  in  a  double  line,  not 
unlike  in  formation  and  precision  that  which  but  a 
few  days  before  had  so  bravely  defended  the  Admiral. 

Prat  stepped  out  from  the  ranks,  and,  wheeling, 
faced  the  company.  One  hand  was  on  his  sword- 
hilt,  the  other  he  waved  aloft.  "Thank  you,"  he 
said ;  "  I  shall  play  to  you  my  own  new  song  called 

202 


A  Tale   of  the  Lost  Colony 

'  Roanoke '  in  reward  for  this,  and  you  shall  see  King 
Lud  dance  for  very  joy.  Your  consciences,  more- 
over, shall  tickle  you,  which  spitefully  pricked  be- 
fore/' Then,  pushing  his  way  through  the  double 
file,  he  stood  before  the  rear  group,  who,  headed  by 
Ananias  Dare,  hung  their  heads  in  sullen  silence. 
"The  rear-guard,''  said  Prat,  surveying  them  with 
contemptuous  irony,  ''  hath  also  its  uses.  It  makes 
our  front  the  more  glorious  by  comparison;  it  in- 
spires thankfulness  in  our  hearts  that  we  are  not  of 
it.  A  lion,  now,  might  not  be  half  so  proud  had  he 
not  a  frightened  hare  to  look  upon."  His  manner 
grew  more  serious.     "  You  are  determined  to  leave?" 

"Yes,  determined,"  replied  Ananias,  who  like 
most  weak  natures  had  his  moments  of  fitful  obsti- 
nacy. 

And  the  men,  in  concert,  echoed,  "Yes." 

Once  more  Eleanor  spoke.  "There  shall  be  no 
strife,"  she  said.  "  We  cannot  stay  you.  Go,  then ; 
but  my  father  and  I  remain." 

"Nay,  nay,"  came  from  the  voices  not  of  those 
who  were  to  leave,  but  of  the  others  who  had  elected 
to  cast  in  their  lot  with  Vytal's.  ''Nay,  the  gov- 
ernor must  go  to  seek  assistance,  and  return  hither 
for  our  salvation.     That  is  sure." 

Eleanor's  voice  broke.  "  My  people,  you  hurt  me 
to  the  quick." 

Prat,  doffing  his  cap,  turned  to  her.  "  It  must  be," 
he  said,  mournfully.  "Oh,  indeed,  it  must  be  I  I 
have  collogued  with  them,  I  have  lost  at  dice,  I 
have  harangued  them,  but  all  in  vain."  He  went 
forward,  wheeled  about  again,  and  addressed  the 
group  of  volunteers.  "Comrades,  I  have  but  one 
suggestion."  He  cast  a  sidelong  glance  at  Ananias. 
"  Master  Dare  must  stay.  We  cannot  spare  the  gov- 
ernor's assistant."    The  men  smiled  grimly.    "And, 

203 


John   Vytal 

if  1  may  say  so.  Mistress  Dare  should  likewise  remain 
among  us  as  a — a  kind  of  hostage  from  his  Excel- 
lency, her  father,  to  assure  us  that  he  will  return  with 
aid/' 

This  was  the  moment  in  which  Roger  meddled  with 
Fate. 

The  governor's  benevolent  face  went  a  shade  paler 
as  he  looked  at  the  corpulent  soldier.  "  Then  you, 
too.  Prat,  are  against  us?''  But  Roger  only  wagged 
his  head  and  rolled  his  eyes  as  who  should  say, 
''  Interpret  the  action  as  you  will,  I,  at  least,  feel  no 
compunction." 

Eleanor  scanned  his  face,  a  new  flush  mounting 
to  her  cheeks.  Her  mind  was  in  a  turmoil.  Great 
forces  strove  one  against  another  in  her  heart;  on 
the  one  side  her  powerful  filial  devotion,  which  im- 
pelled her  to  depart  from  England  with  her  father; 
on  the  other  her  love  for  the  colony,  her  unflinching 
resolution  to  stand  by  it,  her  scorn  for  the  husband 
who  sought  only  selfishly  to  escape;  and,  with  all 
these — but  no ;  she  would  not  define  that  control  even 
to  herself.  Yet  deep,  vivid,  merciless,  a  name  in  her 
soul  defined  it  whether  she  would  or  not. 

She  said  nothing,  but  withdrew  from  the  window 
to  caress  her  child.  A  tear  fell  on  little  Virginia's 
forehead,  and  then  soft  fingers  wiped  it  away  as 
though  to  obliterate  the  symbol  of  Sorrow's  bap- 
tism. 

And  now  a  low,  broken  murmur  rose  from  with- 
out. 

Yes,  as  a  kind  of  hostage,"  said  one. 
A  token  of  good  faith,"  added  another.     ''And 
she  shall  be  as  a  queen  unto  us." 

"Then,  surely,"  observed  a  third,  "his  Excellency 
will  come  back  with  succor." 

"It  is  well." 

204 


A  Tale   of  the    Lost   Colony 

"And  the  brave  Master  Dare  must  share  our  fate/' 

"Ha!     That  is  best  of  all." 

"Roger  Prat  speaks  wisely.'' 

"Ay/'  echoed  many,  "your  round  head,  Roger,  is 
not  all  whim." 

He  laughed  and  rejoined  Marlowe.  "Your  mas- 
ter will  be  angry/'  said  the  poet. 

"Not  in  his  heart.  Master  Christopher." 

The  gathering  dispersed,  casting  amused  glances 
at  Ananias,  who,  now  pale,  mortified,  and  desperate, 
entered  the  house  for  his  only  antidote  against  re- 
morse and  fear. 

The  governor  made  way  for  him  on  the  threshold 
and  stood  for  some  minutes  watching  the  retreating 
figures  of  his  colonists.  Then  he,  too,  withdrew 
slowly,  and  his  step  for  the  first  time  suggested  in- 
firmity, his  face  age. 

On  the  following  morning  Vytal  met  Eleanor  Dare 
near  the  shore.     "You  are  going?"  he  asked. 

"No." 

"'Twould  save  you  from  many  hardships." 

"  I  count  them  blessings.  Few  women  are  allowed 
to  suffer  in  so  good  a  cause.  Their  pain  shows  no 
result." 

"Nay,  Mistress  Dare,  the  effect  lies  too  deep  per- 
chance for  mortal  eyes  to  see  it.  I  was  once  wont  to 
consider  women  so  many  smocks  and  kirtles  that 
clothed  the  air,  but  lately  mine  eyes  have  read  the 
truth."  His  manner  was  in  no  way  passionate,  but 
only  deep  with  reverence  and  admiration.  The  pas- 
sion lay  iron-bound  within  him.  Onl^^  his  eyes  could 
not  utterly  conceal  its  presence;  and,  looking  up  to 
them,  she  became  once  more  a  child.  With  all  others 
she  was  a  woman,  often  imperious  and  always  per- 
fectly at  ease,  yet  with  this  man   she  was  forever 

205 


John   Vytal 

forced  to  assume  the  defensive,  not  against  him, 
but  herself.  She  looked  up  at  him  now  for  the  first 
time  with  a  glance  of  analysis.  Until  to-day  she 
had  never  considered  VytaFs  character  in  detail. 
Hitherto  he  had  been  a  force,  intangible,  but  dom- 
inant, like  the  tide  or  wind.  But  now  that  emer- 
gencies and  crises  had  revealed  her  heart  to  her  mind, 
against  all  that  mind's  resistance,  he,  too,  became 
actual,  and  despite  herself  she  knew  him  to  be  the 
one  man  whom  she  could  love.  Yet  the  word "'  love  " 
was  unutterable  even  in  her  depths.  She  called  it 
by  no  name,  nor  applied  a  word  to  his  own  devotion. 
Only  the  thought  came  to  her,  as  she  met  his  look, 
that  this  inexplicable,  taciturn  Fate  bending  over 
her  would  become  a  child  like  herself  beneath  the 
touch  of  a  requited — but  even  then  she  interrupted 
her  thoughts  with  speech.  ''I  could  not  have  con- 
sented to  leave  our  colony,  even  if  Roger  Prat — '' 
she  hesitated. 

VytaFs  manner  grew  more  stern.  ''Roger  Prat? 
What  has  he  to  do  with  it?'' 

She  looked  troubled.  "  Oh,  naught,  believe  me — 
I  think  he — but  no — I  mean — " 

"What?" 

''  He  believed  'twas  for  the  best,  and  so  he  demand- 
ed that  I — should  stay." 

Vytal  grasped  his  sword-hilt.  ''Is  't  possible  he 
dared  to  interfere?  Do  you  mean  'twas  Prat  sug- 
gested hostages?  Can  it  be  my  own  man  who  hath 
exposed  you  to  the  hazard  of  remaining?" 

"No,  stay,  Captain  Vytal.  Harm  not  the  fellow. 
Dost  not — "  But  she  broke  off  suddenly,  her  head 
drooping  to  hide  the  deep  flush  which  had  mounted 
to  her  cheeks. 

"  'Twas  impertinence,"  declared  Vytal,  as  though 
to  himself.     "  Nay,  more,  it  was  profanation  to  thwart 

206 


A  Tale   of  the   Lost  Colony 

the  will  of  Heaven,  by  which  you  would  have  been 
saved  from  this  cruel  liie." 

She  looked  up  at  him  again,  a  wistful  doubt  in  her 
eyes.     ''Then  you — would  have — me  return?'' 

He  drew  himself  to  his  full  height  in  the  old  sol- 
dierly way,  as  though  facing  an  ordeal.     "I  would.'' 

"Wherefore?"  The  word  came  in  a  low  whisper, 
as  though  a  woman's  heart  were  sinking  with  the 
voice  to  endless  silence. 

"  I  consider  your  happiness,  and  not — "  He  paused 
and  turned  to  leave. 

She  spoke  no  detaining  word,  but  only  stood  watch- 
ing him  as  he  walked  away  to  the  fortress,  and  her 
eyes  were  no  longer  haunted  by  misgiving. 


Roger." 
Ay." 

''Hereafter  ignore  the  dictates  of  impulse  save  in 
matters  of  your  calling.     Obey  my  commands  alone, 
or  seek  another  friend." 
"But,  captain — " 

"Stay,  1  ask  no  explanation  nor  apology.  The 
thing  is  done." 

At  sunrise  the  whole  colony,  save  the  governor 
,  and  his  daughter,  having  assembled  on  the  shore, 
was  divided  into  two  parties — those  who  were  lading 
cock-boats  and  barges  with  provisions  prior  to  their 
departure,  and  those  who  merely  assisted  in  the 
embarkation  with  a  secondary  interest,  listless  and 
mutely  sad. 

Soon,  like  the  pinions  of  two  great  sea-fowl,  wide- 
spread to  bear  them  upward  from  a  billow,  the  sails  of 
the  fly-boat  and  Admiral,  mounting  from  yard  to 
yard,  held  all  eyes  at  gaze. 

Prat,  watching  them  with  a  wry  face,  turned  to 

207 


John   Vytal 

Marlowe,  who  stood  beside  him.  "Damned  por- 
tents!'' he  exclaimed. 

''Nay,  Roger,  they  are  but  vultures  awaiting  to 
bear  away  the  corpse  of  Courage.''  Prat  eyed  him 
with  a  kind  of  wonder.  ''Or/'  pursued  the  poet, 
carelessly,  "  those  sails  are  the  flags  of  truce  we  wave 
to  Destiny." 

"Master  Kyt," asked  Roger,  with  a  look  of  unprec- 
edented embarrassment,  "  is  't  a  hard  thing  to  write 
poesy?" 

Marlowe,  still  in  abstraction,  failed  to  note  the  pre- 
posterous suggestion  that  underlay  the  query.  He 
made  answer  seemingly  to  himself.  "  'Tis  easy  to 
indite  the  'Jigging  Conceits  of  Rhyming  Mother 
Wits,'  "  he  observed,  quoting  from  the  prelude  to  his 
" Tamburlaine. " '•'  "It  is  within  man's  compass  to 
make  a  'mighty  line'  or  so;  but  to  write  poetry  is 
impossible." 

"Nay,  but  you  yourself.  Master  Christopher — " 

"No,  not  I,  nor  any  one  can  scan  the  lines  en- 
grailed by  a  golden  pen  on  the  scroll  of  sunset,  or 
echo  the  music  of  a  breeze." 

The  soldier  looked  mournful,  his  chin  sinking  on 
his  chest  until  a  triple  fold  submerged  it.  "  I  would 
fain  have  invented  a  poem  myself, "  he  avowed,  gloom- 
ily. "  And,  indeed,  have  written  a  song  of  the  men 
of  Roanoke.  Lack-a-day !  'tis  but  a  jigging  mother 
of  rhyme,  I  fear,  and  poorly  done." 

Marlowe  surveyed  him  in  silence  for  a  moment, 
then  laughed  gayly  and  turned  away. 

At  the  same  moment  a  flutter  of  white  scraps,  like 
torn  paper,  fell  to  Roger's  boots. 

The  gathering  that  lined  the  water's  edge  was  now 
divided  in  the  centre,  and  Governor  White  walked 

*  This  prelude  was  written  in  scorn  of  his  predecessors,  and 
to  herald  his  own  conception  of  a  loftier  English  drama. 

208 


A  Tale   of  the  Lost    Colony 

between  the  ranks,  smiling  to  one  and  another  on 
either  side  to  conceal  the  sadness  of  his  farewell.  As 
he  came  half-way  to  the  shore,  Marlowe  went  forward 
and  stopped  him.  Holding  out  a  heavy  packet,  the 
poet  spoke  in  a  low  voice.  ''I  pray  you  see  to 
it  that  this  is  delivered  to  Edward  Alleyn,  an  actor 
of  plays,  who  dwells  in  the  Blackfriars,  or,  if  he  be 
not  readily  found,  then,  I  pray  you,  leave  it  at  the 
sign  of  '  The  Three  Bibles,'  in  charge  of  Paul  Merfin, 
a  bookseller.  It  was  from  his  shop  that  I  joined 
John  Vytal  in  the  fight  for  your  daughter's  honor.  I 
doubt  not  you  will  leave  this  there  as  my  reward. 
The  packet  contains  certain  stage  conceits  begun 
in  England  and  finished  here.'' 

''  It  shall  be  delivered,"  said  the  governor.  "  I  am, 
indeed,  happy  thus  to  be  made  a  humble  sharer  in 
the  building  of  your  fame." 

The  poet  smiled.  ''Fame!"  he  said.  '"Tis  not 
for  that  I  sing." 

And  now  Governor  White  made  his  way  to  the 
water,  while  many  gathered  sorrowfully  around  him 
to  place  letters  in  his  charge. 

Eleanor  went  down  to  the  sea  hand-in-hand  with 
her  father.  Those  who  were  to  leave  had  already 
boarded  the  two  vessels,  with  the  exception  of  a  sailor 
and  Captain  Pomp,  who  stood,  befeathered  hat  in 
hand,  beside  the  governor's  small-boat. 

As  John  White  was  about  to  step  over  the  gunwale 
of  this  craft,  Vytal  approached  him.  "  Since  it  must 
be,"  said  the  soldier,  ''I  have  sought  at  least  to  ex- 
onerate you  from  all  slander  in  England  and  charges 
of  desertion.  The  Oxford  preacher  hath  writ  this," 
and  he  handed  a  scroll  of  paper  to  the  governor.  It 
read  as  follows: 

"  May  it  please  you,  her  Majesty's  subjects  of  England,  we, 
your  friends  and  countrymen,  the  planters  in  Virginia,  do  by 

o  209 


John  Vytal 

these  let  you  and  every  [one]  of  you  to  understand  that  for  the 
present  and  speedy  supply  of  certain  our  known  and  apparent 
lacks  and  needs,  most  requisite  and  necessary  for  the  good 
and  happy  planting  of  us,  or  any  other  in  this  land  of  Virginia, 
we  all  of  one  mind  and  consent  have  most  earnestly  entreated 
and  incessantly  requested  John  White,  Governor  of  the  plant- 
ers in  Virginia,  to  pass  into  England  for  the  better  and  more 
assured  help,  and  setting  forward  of  the  foresaid  supplies,  and 
knowing  assuredly  that  he  both  can  best  and  will  labor  and 
take  pains  in  that  behalf  for  us  all,  and  he  not  once  but  often 
refusing  it  for  our  sakes,  and  for  the  honor  and  maintenance 
of  the  action  hath  at  last,  though  much  against  his  will, 
through  our  importunacy  yielded  to  leave  his  government  and 
all  his  goods  among  us,  and  himself  in  all  our  behalfs  to  pass 
into  England,  of  whose  knowledge  and  fidelity  in  handling 
this  matter,  as  all  others,  we  do  assure  ourselves  by  these 
presents,  and  will  you  to  give  all  credit  thereunto,  the  25  of 
August,  1587."* 

Eleanor  had  already  said  good-bye  in  private,  but 
once  more  she  kissed  her  father,  pressed  his  hand, 
whispered  in  his  ear,  and  then,  as  he  stepped  into  the 
cock-boat  which  awaited  him,  returned  to  her  baby, 
that  lay  crowing  in  its  nurse's  arms. 

"'Body  o'  me,"'  said  a  voice  near  by.  ''The  prow 
hangs  a-land.  Dame  Cock-boat  refuses  to  be  gone. 
Hi,  little  Rouse,  come  help  them.'' 

The  two  joined  their  fellow,  who,  under  Captain 
Pomp's  directions,  was  striving  to  launch  the  craft, 
which  had  been  nearly  deserted  by  an  ebb-tide. 

''Whist!"  said  Roger  in  Hugh's  ear,  "we'll  make 
Master  Dare  give  aid." 

Hugh  looked  at  the  assistant  and  saw  a  sorry  pict- 
ure. " 'Tis  a  ghost,"  he  exclaimed,  "not  a  man  in 
flesh  and  fell." 

"The  corpse  of  Courage,"  added  Prat,  after  the 
poet's  manner. 

*  From  the  personal  account  of  Governor  White,  in  Hak- 
luyt's  Voyages. 

210 


A  Tale    of  the   Lost    Colony 

The  man  they  discussed  seemed  like  a  ghost  in- 
deed, that  would  fade  with  the  mist  when  the  sun 
rose  higher.  His  face,  pallid  and  haggard,  was 
turned  toward  the  cock-boat  as  to  a  last  resort. 

''He  would  leave/'  observed  Rouse,  while,  side  by 
side  with  Roger,  he  pushed  the  governor's  craft  slow- 
ly forward.  For  a  moment  the  keel  ceased  grating 
on  the  shingle,  and  Prat  turned  to  Ananias.  ''Oh, 
Master  Dare,  1  pray  you  give  us  aid!  'Tis  a  most 
unconscionable  task!''  At  which  one  or  two  others 
near  the  cock -boat  exchanged  winks  and  covert 
smiles.  They  showed  no  mercy.  Dare,  between 
the  two  soldiers,  was  forced  himself  to  cut  the  last 
thread  between  danger  and  safety. 

The  prow  fell  free,  and  finally  the  boat  was  floating. 
Then  the  on-lookers  saw  Ananias  stagger,  or,  rather, 
almost  spring  forward,  having,  they  supposed,  lost 
his  balance  as  the  craft  shot  out  from  land.  But 
Hugh's  immense  hand,  grasping  his  belt,  pulled 
him  backward  to  save  him  (the  by-standers  believed) 
from  a  ducking.  Rouse  and  Prat  walked  away  arm- 
in-arm.  "Well  done,  midget;  1  had  not  thought 
so  dense  a  brain  would  fathom  his  intention." 

Slowly  the  Admiral  and  fly-boat  sailed  away, 
their  hulls,  bulwarks,  and  deck-houses  vanishing 
beyond  the  inlet  from  the  ocean  until  only  the  shrouds 
remained,  and  now  the  whole  colony  had  left  the 
shore,  save  one  woman.  Long  she  watched  the  sails 
that,  like  white  clouds,  seemed  to  grow  smaller,  and 
at  last  dissolve  entirely  beneath  the  eastern  sun. 

Finally  a  naked  horizon  met  Eleanor's  eyes  at  the 
edge  of  a  brassy  sea,  and  she  turned  back  to  the  town. 


CHAPTER  XVll 

*  What  we  have  done  our  heart-blood  shall  maintain." 

— Marlowe,  in  Edward  the  Second. 

"Thy  words  are  swords." 

— Marlowe,  in  Tawhurlaine. 

To  those  who,  long  afterwards,  recalled  the  months 
and  months  that  followed  Governor  White's  depart- 
ure there  was  no  clear,  consecutive  reminiscence  in 
the  mind's  eye.  Only  one  or  two  vivid  scenes,  en- 
acted in  those  anxious  days,  graved  themselves  on 
memory.  All  else  was  but  a  medley  of  hours  and 
seasons,  and  even  years,  quick-changing,  confused, 
monotonous  yet  varied,  listless  yet  portentous  and 
pregnant — the  foetus  of  the  Future  in  the  Present's 
womb.  Hope  burned  brightly,  waned,  flared  again, 
flickered,  and  seemed  to  die.  For  even  Hope  can- 
not live  by  Hope  alone  forever;  only  grief  is  self- 
sustaining.  And  grief  came  to  the  colony  of  Roa- 
noke. Pestilence,  tempests  and  privations,  famine, 
drought,  and  mortalit}^,  all  conspired  in  turn  against 
their  one  invincible  enemy  whose  name  is  Courage. 

A  desperate,  absorbing  question  haunted  the  faces 
of  men,  women,  and  children ;  a  question  first  asked 
in  words,  next  mutely  from  eye  to  eye,  then  not  at 
all.  When  ?  when  ?  The  word  holds  all  the  meaning 
of  existence,  and  the  meaning  is  a  question.  Despair 
is  the  death  of  Hope ;  Resignation,  the  deep-cut  grave. 
Yet  from  the  grave  a  ghost  returns  to  whisper, 
"Then." 

212 


John  Vytal:  A  Tale  of  the  Lost  Colony 

,  The  ghost  of  Hope  still  haunted  Roanoke  Island. 

Surely  some  day  the  resigned  yet  watchful  eyes 
would  see  a  sail  to  the  eastward.  First  the  set- 
tlers said  ''To-morrow/'  then  "Next  month/'  and  at 
last,  "  Within  a  year  John  White  will  bring  deliv- 
erance/' 

But  summers  and  winters  passed  until  two  whole 
years  had  gone,  and  speculation  was  eschewed  by 
all  as  vain  self-torture. 

Crops  failed ;  husbandry  languished.  Life  at  last 
came  to  a  low  ebb.  This  may  seem  unaccountable 
when  one  considers  that  about  threescore  able-bod- 
ied men,  with  perhaps  a  dozen  women  and  children, 
were  not  castaways  without  shelter,  but  well-housed 
settlers.  Yet  the  fact  remains  undeniable;  and  the 
cause  is  not  far  to  seek.  Hope  had  made  the  colo- 
nists dependent  on  itself.  They  had  looked  for  a 
speedy  deliverance.  Without  this  expectation  their 
industry,  at  the  outset,  after  Governor  Wliite's  de- 
parture, would  not  have  waned,  but  increased.  Per- 
ceiving no  assistance  possible  from  an  outside  source, 
the  little  company,  relying  on  its  own  endeavors, 
would  have  striven  to  shape  the  future  independently. 
But  that  sail,  ever  in  the  mind's  eye,  allured  them. 
Save  for  two  or  three  men  who  were,  above  all,  self- 
reliant,  the  colony,  before  now,  would  have  perished. 
Fortunately,  one  of  these  had  learned  to  depreciate 
the  kindness  of  Destiny.  In  his  mental  vision  there 
was  no  sail  to  the  eastward,  nor  ever  would  be  unless 
a  ship  actually  appeared  on  the  horizon.  Experience, 
head-master  of  this  school-boy  world,  could  boast  of 
at  least  one  graduate  on  Roanoke. 

"  Manteo,  the  end  is  near.  I  have  sought  for  over 
two  years  to  'stablish  ourselves  firmly,  so  that,  even 
were  John  White's  absence  indefinitely  prolonged, 

213 


John    Vytal 

we  might  yet  survive.     But  your  land  considers  us 
aliens.     The  end  is  near.'' 

''Yes,  my  brother,  for  that  reason  1  have  come 
hither  from  the  island  of  Croatan.  The  English  are 
not  aliens,  but  friends  and  brethren.  Our  crops  shall 
be  their  crops,  our  habitation  theirs  as  well.  My 
name  is  Manteo,  yet  also  Lord  of  Roanoke.'^  Ask 
your  people  to  come  and  be  my  children  on  the  isle 
of  Croatan.  Here  the  tongue  of  the  earth  cleaves 
to  its  mouth.  All  things  die  thirsting.  The  springs 
of  fresh  water  are  spent  and  run  not ;  the  dust  chokes 
their  throats,  and  still  no  cloud  appears.  Even  the 
sky  panteth.     1  say  to  you,  come  away.'' 

"  But,  Manteo,  wherefore?  Is  't  any  better  at  your 
abode?" 

''  It  is ;  for  at  Croatan  the  forest  waters  bring  laugh- 
ter from  the  heart -of  the  world,  and  are  never  hushed. 
The  whisper  of  Roanoke's  well-springs  is  lip-deep 
and  meaningless,  w^hile  we  of  Croatan  hear  a  spirit 
singing,  'Come.'  The  song  is  to  you,  for  we  are 
there  already.     1  repeat  it :  '  Come. '  " 

But  your  crops  are  needed  for  your  kinsmen." 
Yes;  ye  are  our  kinsmen." 

"So  be  it.  On  the  morrow,  then,  thy  lot  is  ours 
as  well." 

At  noon  the  colonists  assembled  near  the  fortress, 
while  John  Vytal  spoke  to  them.  By  the  captain's 
side  stood  Manteo,  utterly  impassive,  and,  next  to 
the  Indian,  Christopher  Marlowe,  seemingly  wrapped 
in  a  high  abstraction.  In  the  foremost  line  of  the 
small  half-circle  Hugh  Rouse  and  Roger  Prat  were 
intently  listening;   while  from  a  knoll,  apart  from 

*  He  had  been  created  a  peer  by  Raleigh's  prefennent,  and 
was  the  first  to  receive  a  title  in  America. 

214 


A  Tale   of  the  Lost  Colony 

the  group,  yet  well  within  earshot,  Eleanor  Dare 
watched  the  speaker.  About  the  foot  of  the  mound 
a  little  girl,  apparently  about  three  years  old,  played 
with  drooping  wild -flowers.  Like  a  butterfly  just 
from  the  cocoon,  she  flittered  hither  and  thither,  with 
uncertain,  hesitating  motion,  yet  a  grace  so  light 
and  aerial  that  seemingly  a  thread  of  sunlight  could 
have  bound  her,  since  no  breeze  was  there  to  carry 
her  away.  Though  actual  gossamer  wings  were 
unaccountably  lacking,  a  gossamer  spirit  was  hers, 
ethereal,  as  if  born  of  a  maiden's  dream.  Yet,  as  the 
wing  of  a  butterfly  winces  if  the  flower  it  touches 
droops,  there  was  that  in  her  which  told  vaguely  of 
sorrow,  as  though  in  the  past,  long  before  her  earthly 
life,  her  devotion  for  some  one  had  been  repelled. 
And  now  even  these  strange  wild  ferns  and  unnamed 
blossoms  of  the  field  about  her  hung  their  heads  and 
turned  away.  Yet  she  was  of  them.  Was  the  sad- 
ness an  inborn,  unconscious  memory,  a  dim  result 
arising  from  the  fact  that  her  father  had  been  spurned, 
and  that  of  the  contempt  and  repugnance  in  which 
her  mother  had  held  him,  long  months  before  Vir- 
ginia's birth,  she  was  the  offspring? 

These  were  the  thoughts  and  questions  in  the  mind 
of  Marlowe  as  he  turned  to  watch  the  child  at  play. 
Her  mystic  sadness  was  not  the  effect  of  an  infancy 
amid  hardship  and  affliction.  He  believed  she  would 
never  be  touched  by  tangible  sorrows.  He  pictured 
her  as  grown  to  womanhood,  yet  never  amenable  to 
ordinary  grief.  No;  it  was  only  that  the  maiden's 
dream  from  which  this  child  seemed  sprung  had  end- 
ed with  an  awakening  from  vague  and  roseate  fancies 
to  a  cold,  remorseless  fact.  The  soul  of  the  child  had 
no  father ;  she  was  not  conceived  of  love.  The  world 
holds  many  like  her,  beautiful  and  sound  in  body, 
and  in  spirit  beautiful  but  incomplete. 

215 


John  Vytal 

As  the  poet  watched  her  playing  about  her  mother's 
feet,  with  all  the  babble  and  waywardness  of  blithe- 
some elfinry,  his  thoughts  grew  more  abstracted. 
He  no  longer  saw  the  sunny  head,  the  peony  lips, 
and  the  little  oval  face,  mirthful  but  very  pale;  he 
no  longer  compared  the  features  to  Eleanor's,  noting 
the  surface  likeness,  the  difference  underneath;  he 
no  longer  drew  a  distinction  between  the  spiritual 
deeps  of  the  mother's  eyes  and  the  mystical  pre- 
science of  the  daughter's,  which  lay  also  beneath  a 
veil  of  hazel  light. 

He  was  thinking  of  the  little  one  as  Virginia  Dare, 
the  first-born  white  child  of  America.  She  became 
a  symbol  to  him  w^hose  meaning  he  could  but  dimly 
understand.  He  considered  all  the  sacrifice  by  which 
she  had  come  into  the  w^orld,  the  sacrifice  and  suffer- 
ing in  which  she  had  been  reared,  but  by  no  poetic 
hieromancy  could  he  read  her  meaning.  A  fate- 
spun  thread  of  gold  joining  the  East  and  West;  a 
mystery,  a  portent,  a  promise — all  these  she  seemed 
to  Marlowe,  yet  in  meaning  so  vague  and  futuritial 
as  to  be  beyond  all  interpretation  not  divine. 

Suddenly,  however,  the  poet's  thoughts  forsook 
Virginia,  both  as  the  child  of  Eleanor  and  of  Fate. 
Vytal's  clear,  short  words  had  forced  themselves  into 
his  mind. 

"Manteo  hath  asked  us  to  make  our  abode  with 
him  and  his  people  at  Croatan.  In  your  name  I 
have  answered, '  Yes.'  Here  we  wait  and  die,  one  by 
one,  of  sickness,  drought,  and  famine.  My  sword 
hath  been  ever  ready,  and  God  grant  may  be  always, 
to  lead  you  and  defend  our  trust.  But  against  dis- 
ease and  starvation  not  all  the  arms  of  Spain  and 
England  could  prevail.  Yet,  rather  than  desert  this 
realm  forever,  mark  you,  'twere  better  to  leave  our 
bones  as  centronels  of  the  town.     If  we  cannot  till 

2l6 


A  Tale   of  the    Lost  Colony 

the  soil  and  wrest  a  livelihood  therefrom,  1  say,  let 
us  mingle  with  it  our  dust,  that  others,  who  come 
after,  maj^  sow  their  seed  therein  and  reap  a  harvest 
of  fidelit}^.  Even  then  we  should  at  least  have 
stayed  and  been  of  use  to  men.  We  must  leave  an 
heritage  behind  us,  a  will  and  testament,  written 
perchance  in  blood,  and  ineffaceable.  This  is  our 
sacred  duty.  Yet  there  hath  been  talk  among  you 
of  building  a  vessel  and  taking  to  the  sea.  So  soon 
as  you  begin  1  shall  end  the  labor  with  fire  and  the 
thing  you  term  a  '  bodkin. '  Call  me  tyrant  an  you 
will ;  I  care  not.  Stab  me  at  night,  build  your  boats 
— even  then  1  care  not.  My  will,  at  least,  shall  have 
stood  to  the  last  for  duty. 

"\  see  your  eyes  gaping  with  surprise.  'Tis  be- 
cause my  voice  in  this  harangue  sounds  strange. 
You  consider  me — deny  it  not — a  silent  wolf.  Per- 
haps 1  am  so.  But  sometimes  words  are  needed  for 
speakers  of  words.  Otherwise  1  would  have  said, 
Xome,'  and  led  you,  without  further  parley,  to  Croa- 
tan.  But  3"ou  would  not  have  understood ;  you  would 
have  murmured.  Listen,  then.  We  go  to  the  island 
of  Croatan  on  the  morrow  and  live  with  the  Hatteras 
tribe.  Let  those  who  are  fearful  bury  deep  their 
most  valued  possessions;  but  all  may  bring  with 
them  what  the3^  will.  The  vinteners,  husbandmen, 
and  gardeners  must  take  their  implements,  the  artif- 
icers their  tools.  You,  Hugh  Rouse,  and  \"ou.  Prat, 
superintend  the  conveyance  of  our  ordnance,  half  of 
which  shall  be  taken,  and  half  left  in  the  fort.  You, 
Dyonis,  will  make  the  barges  ready  and  man  the  pin- 
nace. You,  Kyt  Marlowe,  carve  the  name  Croatan 
beside  the  main  entrance  to  the  town,  high  up  on  a 
tree-trunk,  in  fair  capitals,  that,  if  the  governor  do 
ever  return,  he  may  know  of  our  whereabouts  and 
come  to  Croatan. 

217 


John  Vytal 

''My  friends,  the  exodus  is  unavoidable.  Yet  we 
still  garrison  a  hemisphere/' 

He  paused  and  scanned  their  faces,  while  for  a 
moment  all  looked  up  at  him  as  though  fearing  to 
break  the  spell  which  for  the  first  time  in  their  knowl- 
edge had  given  him  tongue.  But  presently  several 
men  appeared  on  the  threshold  of  a  neighboring  cab- 
in, in  which  Gyll  Croyden  lived,  and  from  which, 
until  now,  peals  of  incongruous  laughter  and  the  rat- 
tle of  dice  had  proceeded  at  frequent  intervals.  Fore- 
most in  the  doorway  stood  Ananias  Dare,  who,  after 
hesitating  a  minute,  joined  the  larger  gathering. 
''What  is  afoot?''  he  asked  of  those  nearest  to  him. 

"  We  shall  be  soon,"  laughed  Prat,  "for  to-morrow 
we  leave  Roanoke  and  join  the  Hatteras  Indians." 

"God's  pity!     They  will  exterminate  us." 

At  this  Manteo,  who  until  now  had  remained  im- 
mobile as  stone,  started  forward,  but  Vytal,  with  a 
word,  restrained  him,  and,  turning  to  the  assistant, 
spoke  in  a  low  voice,  so  that  Eleanor  might  not  hear 
his  accusation.  "Master  Dare,  you  insult  a  ben- 
efactor. Manteo  is  no  murderer,  but  a  generous 
host.  Bridle  your  tongue."  The  tone  was  author- 
itative and  coldly  harsh,  but  the  very  cowardice  of 
Ananias,  paradoxically  enough,  gave  him  moments 
of  obstinate  courage.  Many  there  are  who  fight  des- 
perately to  retreat :  fear  is  bold  in  its  own  interests. 

"Who  gave  you  command?"  he  queried,  "  'Twas 
1  suggested  to  the  governor  that  John  Vytal  should 
assume  control.  My  voice,  therefore,  deserves  the 
heed  of  all;  and  I  say  build  a  ship.  By  all  means 
let  us  haste  to  England."  He  turned  at  the  last 
and  addressed  the  women  nearest  to  him,  while  the 
hands  of  Prat  and  Rouse  went  impulsively  to  their 
sword-hilts,  and  their  glance  hung  on  Vytal'  s  face, 
asking   permission  to   end  the  matter  immediately 

2i8 


A  Tale   of  the    Lost  Colony 

with  summary  decision.     But  the  captain  only  scru- 
tinized the  group  searchingly. 

''Master  Dare/'  ventured  Roger,  ''harangues  the 
women.  His  words  are  not  for  us.  Oh  ho,  good 
dames,  give  ear.  Ye're  to  man  a  ship — woman  a  ship, 
I  mean.  Now,  one  shall  be  Mistress  Jack- Woman, 
another  Dame  Captain,  another  Sailing-Mistress. 
In  troth,  'tis  a  lusty  crew.'' 

Ananias  turned  on  him  angrily.  "Sirrah,  have 
a  care,  else  you  shall  feel  the  grip  of  a  hand  -  lock 
within  the  hour." 

But  Roger  responded  with  a  laugh.  "  Now,  what's 
a  hand-lock,  Master  Assistant?  You've  so  often 
made  mention  of  the  thing  as  befitting  my  exalted 
station,  that  methinks  'tis  time  it  were  proven  real." 

He  would  have  given  his  raillery  free  rein  and  run 
on  further,  but  Vytal  interrupted  him.  "Desist, 
Roger ;  your  tongue  runs  riot  most  unseemly.  The 
irons  are  real  indeed,  and  here's  a  hand  shall  lock 
them  an  you  show  not  greater  deference  to  su- 
periors." 

Ananias  smiled  at  this  with  triumph,  and  resumed 
his  appeal.  "  1  ask  you,  my  masters,  is  it  not  far 
better  to  risk  a  thousand  storms  by  sea  than  en- 
counter death  by  torture  or  slow  starvation?  1  doubt 
not  the  Indian  chieftain  is  well  meaning,  but  so  also 
is  Sir  Walter  Raleigh;  yet  to  what  a  pass  hath  his 
invitation  brought  us!  The  time  is  come  to  save 
ourselves."  He  hesitated,  for  at  this  moment  his 
daughter,  the  little  Virginia,  who  had  chased  a  hum- 
ming-bird across  the  square,  stopped  in  her  flight 
and  looked  up  at  him.  When  his  eyes  fell  to  hers 
he  winced  perceptibly,  and  then  his  face,  flushing 
for  an  instant,  seemed  superlatively  beautiful  under 
the  recall  of  a  lost  masculinity.  But  suddenly  his 
glance  wandered  to  Eleanor,  who  stood  aloof  watch- 

219 


John  Vytal:  A  Tale  of  the  Lost  Colony 

ing  him,  and  the  old,  drawn,  palhd  look  reasserted 
itself,  whereat,  slowly,  he  turned  on  his  heel  and, 
with  eyes  shamefully  cast  down,  re-entered  the  cabin 
of  Gyll  Croyden. 

"  On  the  morrow/'  said  Vytal,  "  we  go  to  Croatan. " 


CHAPTER  XVlll 

"  His  looks  do  measure  heaven  and  dare  the  gods  : 
His  fiery  eyes  are  fixed  upon  the  earth." 

— Marlowe,  in  Tamburlaine. 

Oftentimes  the  necessity  for  mere  physical  ex- 
ertion alleviates  the  dull  pain  of  hopelessness  and 
induces  men  to  forget  themselves.  The  renewed 
activity  may  be  long  delayed  and  unsought,  but  when 
at  last  it  comes  the  change  is  everywhere  apparent. 
For  months  the  colony  had  been  subject  to  a  kind 
of  lethargy,  a  spirit  of  retrospection  and  dark  fore- 
boding, which  even  the  endeavors  of  Vytal  and  his 
men  could  not  dispel.  But  on  the  day  of  exodus 
there  was  not  even  an  attempt  at  prophecy.  The 
tangible  present  became  paramount.  Each  man, 
with  a  few  exceptions,  acted  for  himself,  and  thus 
for  all.  Even  selfishness,  if  it  be  positive,  may  re- 
sult in  a  benefit  widespread  beyond  its  ow^n  intent. 

The  sun,  rising  slowly,  seemed  at  last  to  pause 
and  balance  itself  on  the  edge  of  the  flaming  sea, 
like  an  oven's  red-hot  lid  for  a  moment  lifted  from 
its  hole.  The  sky,  papery,  blue,  and  shallow — a 
ceiling  painted  azure  in  clumsj^  imitation  of  the  heav- 
ens— seemed  so  low  as  to  shut  out  air.  One  might 
almost  have  expected  to  see  strips  of  the  blue  peel  off 
in  places,  cracked  by  the  consuming  heat.  The 
bosom  of  the  sea  lay  motionless,  as  if  the  breath  of 
life  had  gone  forever;  and  the  corpse  of  the  earth 
was  carrion  for  the  sun. 

221 


John  Vytal 

But  the  toilers  persisted.  The  emigration  had  be- 
gun. 

For  hours  and  hours  the  boats  proceeded  on  their 
way  until  day  was  nearly  gone,  and  at  last,  as  if 
Fate  would  deride  the  colony,  a  cloud,  for  which  all 
had  prayed  so  long,  crept  up  over  the  horizon.  A 
low,  muffled  roar  came  across  the  water,  and,  in  the 
distance,  rain  fell. 

Ananias  Dare,  who,  with  Vytal,  Marlowe,  and 
Manteo,  stood  in  the  bow  of  the  pinnace,  suggested 
that  all  should  immediately  return.  But  Vytal  re- 
fused. ''It  would  be  months,''  he  affirmed,  ''even 
under  the  most  favorable  conditions,  before  our  plant- 
ers could  replenish  the  storehouse.'' 

At  this  moment  a  louder  roar  than  hitherto  pro- 
claimed the  cloud's  approach,  and  a  pall  of  dark- 
ness covered  the  sea.  The  effect  was  memorable. 
A  second  picture  graved  itself  on  observant  minds. 
To  the  east,  stretching  out  interminably  on  one 
side,  lay  the  sea,  chopping  and  black  as  ink.  To 
the  west,  the  land,  sun -clad,  extended  broad  and 
limitless.  Hope  and  Despair,  Life  and  Death,  were 
keeping  tryst  at  the  brink  of  ocean.  But  not  for 
long.  Suddenly  a  jagged  light  gashed  the  heavens, 
and,  with  a  terrific  detonation,  a  ball  of  fire  fell  to  earth. 
A  great  oak  on  the  margin  of  the  forest  crashed  and 
lurched  forward,  its  huge  branches  splashing  in  the 
sea.  The  spray,  as  it  fell,  leaped  up  and  wetted  the 
pinnace,  a  few  cold  drops  sprinkling  the  face  of  Ana- 
nias Dare.  AVith  a  groan  the  assistant  sank  down, 
cowering,  to  the  deck.  Again  and  again  the  light- 
ning flashed  on  every  side,  jaggedly  tearing  the  sky 
as  though  against  its  weave.  Yet,  as  the  sea  had 
not  responded  with  a  burst  of  wrath,  but  only  writhed 
slowly,  as  if  in  pain  too  great  for  utterance,  the  barges 
forged  ahead  with  steady  progress  toward  their  goal. 

222 


A  Tale   of   the   Lost  Colony 

Fortunately,  there  was  but  little  wind.  Merely  a 
summer  thunder-storm  had  broken  over  them,  the 
like  of  which  they  had  never  seen  in  England. 

The  rowers  persisted  stubbornly  in  their  cum- 
brous crafts,  while  Dyonis  gripped  the  pinnace's 
helm  with  phlegmatic  pertinacity  and  looked  only 
toward  Croatan.  Near  Dyonis,  in  the  stern,  sat 
Eleanor,  her  protecting  arm  and  cloak  around  Vir- 
ginia, who,  curiously  enough,  peered  out  at  the  stonn 
with  not  a  trace  of  childish  fear.  Vytal,  IVIarlowe, 
and  Manteo  still  stood  in  the  bow,  the  former  now 
and  again  calling  orders  to  their  steersman,  while 
Ananias,  crouching,  looked  landward  over  the  gun- 
wale. Still  the  long  line  of  boats  pushed  on  like 
a  school  of  whales,  Hugh  Rouse  and  Prat  bringing 
up  the  rear  with  a  barge-load  of  ordnance. 

"There  it  goes,  there  it  goes  again,''  said  Roger, 
rowing  for  dear  life.  ''  'Tis  worse  than  a  Spanish 
bombardment.  I'  faith,  midget,  I  am  tempted  to 
shoot  back.  What  say  you?"  and  his  heavy  pant- 
ing drowned  the  sound  of  a  low  chuckle. 

"Madman,  row!''  roared  Hugh,  "row,  an  you  want 
not  a  watery  grave  this  minute  !" 

"Watery?"  said  Prat.  "Damnable  fiery,  I  call 
it.  Our  well-merited  brimstone  boils  early."  He 
broke  off,  puffing,  and  looked  over  his  shoulder  down 
into  the  bow  with  much  difficulty,  owing  to  the  short- 
ness of  his  neck.  "0  your  Majesty,  'tis  an  un- 
fortunate hap,  yet  I  pray  you,  sire,  rest  easy."  The 
bear,  crouching  in  the  bow,  poked  his  snout  forward 
under  Roger's  arm.  ''He  is  not  forever  setting  me 
to  work,"  muttered  Prat. 

Nay,  nor  me  on  edge  by  fleering  raillery." 
On    edge!"  cried  Roger.     " 'Tis   timely   spoke. 
On  edge,  eh?    Body  o'  me  !  look  sharp,  manikin! 
'Tis  the  barge  we  set  on  edge;  see  there  1" 

223 


(I 
it 


John  Vytal 

His  warning  came  just  in  time,  for,  owing  to  the 
sudden  shifting  of  the  bear,  a  small  stream  of  water 
poured  in  over  the  gunwale.  Rouse  and  Prat  moved 
quickly  to  the  other  side,  and  the  barge  righted  itself. 
King  Lud  rolled  over,  growling  angrily. 

Then,  as  if  to  drown  his  voice,  the  thunder  itself 
growled  in  a  final  fit  of  rage  and  retreated,  with  low 
mutterings,  toward  the  setting  sun.  At  last  a  ray  of 
light  shone  faintly  through  a  rift  in  the  cloud  and 
a  long  shaft  of  gold  glanced  obliquely  to  the  earth, 
beside  which  the  now  distant  gleam  of  forked  and 
unsymmetric  lightning  seemed  like  a  sign  of  chaos 
fading  before  the  advance  of  order.  The  rain,  which 
for  a  few  moments  had  fallen  in  torrents,  passed  on, 
while  only  a  shower  of  sunshot  drops,  falling  like 
diadems  from  the  woodland's  crown,  echoed  the  harsh 
patter  of  a  moment  before. 

''It  is  over,''  said  Marlowe,  and,  turning,  he  looked 
long  at  Eleanor,  then  went  down  into  the  stern  and 
spoke  to  her.  A  momentary  flash  like  the  lightning 
shone  in  his  eyes.  ''Thus  would  my  love,"  he  de- 
clared, "consume  its  object." 

She  returned  his  glance  meditatively.  "Nay, 
that  is  not  love. " 

"'Twould,  indeed,  be  mine."  He  gazed  off  to  the 
western  sky  in  deep  abstraction,  adding  slowly: 
"  Yet,  'tis  not  love  1  see  before  me ;  it  is  death.  Alas ! 
1  like  not  the  stealth  of  death  as  it  creeps  seemingly 
nearer  and  very  near."  He  paused,  still  looking 
away  toward  the  sun,  which  in  another  moment  sank 
behind  the  forest  of  the  mainland.  And  Eleanor 
made  no  answer,  but  instinctively  turned  to  glance 
at  Gyll  Croyden  in  the  boat  behind  them.  Then, 
realizing  that  Marlowe  was  following  her  gaze,  she 
looked  up  at  him  again  quickly.  The  spirit  of  pre- 
monition had  suddenly  left  his  eyes ;  the  moment 

224 


A  Tale   of  the    Lost  Colony 

of  transcendency  had  passed.  He  was  smiling  at 
Mistress  Croyden. 

But  the  httle  Virginia,  peering  up  at  Christopher 
from  under  her  mother's  cloak,  whispered,  ''Death,'' 
and  again,  with  a  bright  smile,  slowly,  questioningly, 
"Death?"  as  though  striving  to  grasp  the  meaning 
of  a  new  and  pretty  word. 

The  treble  voice,  however,  was  suddenly  drowned 
by  a  loud  cheer  from  many  throats,  the  sound  of  which 
caused  Virginia  to  look  about  like  a  white  rabbit 
from  its  hole  and  to  pout  at  the  rude  interruption  of 
her  childish  reverie.  But  soon  she  darted  out  from 
the  cloak  and  added  her  prattle  to  the  prolonged 
huzzah,  for  her  bright  eyes  told  her  that  once  more 
she  could  run  about  in  chase  of  birds  and  quest  of 
flowers. 

The  colonists  had  arrived  at  Croatan. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

"Hark  to  a  motion  of  eternal  league." 

— Marlowe,  in  Dido,  Queen  of  Carthage. 

In  a  week  the  English  settlement  had  assumed  an 
aspect  that  hinted  at  permanent  residence  on  the  isl- 
and of  Croatan.  The  Indian  town,  with  a  population 
of  over  one  hundred^  still  offered  shelter  to  the  new- 
comers, though  a  number  of  houses,  after  the  white 
man's  fashion  of  building,  were  already  nearing  com- 
pletion. The  village,  girdled  by  trees,  occupied  a 
wide  and  natural  opening.  The  sites  of  houses  had 
been  chosen  with  a  certain  regularity  and  crude  sym- 
metry as  to  position,  which  gave  the  paths  an  almost 
street-like  appearance.  The  dwellings  themselves 
were  varied  according  to  the  tastes  of  their  builders 
and  the  advantages  of  their  surroundings,  some 
walled  by  strips  of  bark  staked  to  the  ground  and 
fastened  together  by  thongs  of  hide;  others,  more 
pretentious,  being  strengthened  by  numerous  up- 
right poles  placed  side  by  side  in  double  lines  and 
bent  over  at  the  top,  where  they  formed  arched  and 
lofty  roofs.  The  interior  of  the  house  which  belonged 
to  Manteo  and  his  mother  was  surprisingly  spacious, 
measuring  almost  twenty  yards  in  length,  and  in 
width  as  many  feet. 

One  summer  morning  a  child  stood  wonderingly 
before  the  threshold  of  this  dwelling,  regarding  in 
silence  another  child  in  the  doorway.  The  first  was 
Virginia,  the  second  Manteo 's  son,  a  dark,  supple 

226 


John  Vytal:  A  Tale  of  the  Lost  Colony- 
boy,  whose  unclad  body  shone  Hke  bronze  in  the 
sunHght.  Between  the  two,  momentarily,  there  was 
silence,  each  regarding  the  other  with  curious  and 
bashful  eyes ;  until  at  last  Virginia,  stepping  eager- 
ly forward  to  the  Indian  lad,  held  out  her  hand. 
For  a  minute  he  looked  down  at  the  delicate  fingers 
and  little  palm  with  a  bewildered  expression,  as 
though  at  an  object  clearly  demanding  his  attention, 
but  in  no  way  understood.  Not  a  smile  crossed  his 
dark  face;  the  perplexity  was  very  sober,  and  the 
belief  that  she  desired  some  gift  embarrassed  him,  for 
what  had  he  to  give?  But  suddenly,  as  if  with  an  in- 
tuitive impulse,  he  offered  that  which  alone  seemed 
available — his  hand.  At  this  she  laughed,  and,  turn- 
ing her  head,  now  this  way,  now  that,  inspected  the 
dusky  present  like  a  young  bird  and  held  it  fast. 

''The  White  Doe,''  said  Manteo,  who  stood  near 
by  with  Vytal,  ''shall  be  as  a  bond  between  our 
peoples/' 


CHAPTER  XX 

"...  Adieu ! 
Since  destiny  doth  call  me  from  thy  shore."' 

— Marlowe,  in  Dido,  Queen  of  Carthage. 

At  Croatan  the  springs  ran  freely,  and  the  soil, 
being  naturally  irrigated,  bore  sufficient  crops  for 
all.  This  the  English  sowers  learned  gladly,  after 
inspecting  the  w^ork  of  their  uncivilized  brethren  with 
admiration  for  the  bountiful  result,  if  not  for  the  crude 
and  irksome  methods  of  cultivation.  Here  men, 
women,  and  children  were  alike  tillers  of  the  soil,  and 
although,  with  needless  exertion,  sticks  were  used 
instead  of  ploughs  and  holes  dug  instead  of  furrows, 
the  wide  fields  beyond  the  town's  encircling  strip  of 
woodland  showed  an  abundance  of  maize,  or  guinea 
wheat ;  beans,  pease,  and  tobacco.  About  a  third  of 
the  forest  was  composed  of  walnut-trees,  from  which 
the  nuts  were  plucked  by  the  natives,  to  be  used  as 
seasoning  in  spoon-meat.  Chestnuts,  which  strewed 
the  ground,  were  also  gathered  and  made  into  a  kind 
of  bread. 

The  recent  rains  appeared  to  have  reawakened 
nature;  for  not  only  had  all  the  crops  of  fruit  and 
vegetables  been  revivified,  but  animal  life  as  well. 
Wild  geese  and  turkeys,  immense  flocks  of  water- 
fowl and  penguins,  swans,  crows,  and  magpies,  be- 
ing affrighted  now  and  then  by  some  unaccustomed 
sound,  as  a  trumpet-call  or  accidental  musket-shot, 
would  rise  with  a  concerted  flutter  and  whir  like  a 

228 


John  Vytal:  A  Tale  of  the  Lost  Colony 

great  wind  above  the  forest.  At  these  moments  the 
varied  clamor  of  their  cries  would  fill  the  air  with 
an  alarum  so  loud  as  to  seem  almost  human  in  tone 
and  power. 

Beasts  of  the  field,  great  and  small,  were  also  near 
neighbors  of  the  tribesmen.  Black  bear,  deer,  rab- 
bits, opossums,  wild  hog,  and  foxes  abounded  on 
every  side.  Thus  all  manner  of  palatable  meat  was 
to  be  had  for  a  single  day's  hunting. 

In  life  and  custom  the  English  soon  became  half 
Indian,  the  Indians  half  English. 

Yet,  with  all  the  outward  sign  of  harmony,  and 
despite  the  genuine  friendliness,  a  hope,  deep  down 
in  the  English  hearts,  strove  to  believe  that  this  con- 
dition was  in  no  way  final.  The  barrier  of  race  was 
too  strong  so  soon  to  be  removed.  The  Indians  were 
on  their  own  soil,  surrounded  by  their  intimate  kins- 
men, and  living  much  as  they  had  always  lived ;  but 
the  English  were  in  exile.  Thoughts  of  England 
haunting  them  at  moments  brought  restless  longings. 
That  which  had  been  born  and  bred  in  the  bone  must 
die  with  it.  As  the  grave  is  the  only  portal  to  a  life 
divine,  so  Death  is  the  sole  power  by  which  a  new 
country  is  forced  to  yield  itself  in  full  before  the  in- 
flux of  aliens.  The  earthly  land  of  promise  is  for 
sons,  not  fathers.  With  the  first  generation  it  is  a 
trust,  and  only  with  the  second  a  possession. 

Many  of  the  colonists,  despite  their  new-found  com- 
fort and  prosperity,  were  yet  unsatisfied.  Their 
hearts  yearned  for  England.  Gradually  they  went 
from  bad  to  worse.  Their  turbulence,  vice,  and  in- 
continence ran  riot  as  never  before.  Only  a  few  la- 
bored steadily  for  the  common  good.  On  these  the 
others  lived  as  parasites.  Yet  the  minority  averted 
the  colony's  dissolution.  Eleanor  Dare,  for  one,  by 
a  daily  example  of  fortitude,  a  never-failing  sympa- 

229 


John    Vytal 

thy,  a  detailed  attention  to  the  little  ills  and  troubles 
of  her  fellows,  served,  through  her  influence  upon  the 
women,  to  maintain  the  industry  of  the  men.  While, 
however,  it  was  she  who  thus  gradually  turned  sor- 
rowful resignation  to  contentment,  it  was  Vytal  who, 
by  personal  and  continual  contact  with  the  planters, 
dominated  their  wills  and  held  them  fast  to  duty. 

The  control  of  these  two  superior  spirits,  one  fem- 
inine, the  other  masculine,  and  each  the  other's  need, 
formed  an  almost  perfect  diarchy,  by  which  the  col- 
onists of  Virginia  were  governed  for  many  years. 

The  influence  of  a  third  dominant  spirit  is  more 
difficult  to  define,  being  that  of  Christopher  Marlowe, 
whose  temperament,  ever  varying  and  mystical,  was 
understood  by  few. 

As  months  passed  the  poet  became  again  envel- 
oped in  abstraction,  until  at  last  his  mind  seemed  to 
be  concentrated  on  some  definite  purpose,  of  which 
the  existence  was  made  evident  by  an  unusual  taci- 
turnity and  set  expression,  while  the  purpose  itself 
remained  a  mystery. 

It  had  become  the  custom  of  Marlowe  to  absent 
himself  daily  from  the  town,  and  to  pursue  his  soli- 
tary way,  morning  after  morning,  to  a  northeastern 
promontory  that  stretched  out  into  the  sea  from  an 
adjacent  island.  On  these  walks  he  was  always, 
by  apparent  intention,  alone.  Standing  on  the  shore, 
with  face  turned  northward  and  eyes  intent  on  scan- 
ning the  wide  horizon,  his  graceful  figure  was  ever 
solitary,  his  reflections  ever  with  no  response  save 
from  his  inward  self.  Thus  for  months,  without 
the  exception  of  a  single  day,  he  went  to  the  promon- 
tory, until  his  patience  was  rewarded  by  the  sight  of 
that  which  he  had  so  long  awaited.  An  instinct,  a 
premonition,  an  inward  certainty,  call  it  what  he 
would,  had  told  him  that  his  determination  must  find 

230 


A  Tale   of  the    Lost  Colony 

an  opportunity  at  last.  Therefore,  when  the  chance 
to  work  his  will  finally  offered  itself,  he  regarded  it 
with  small  surprise.  He  called  himself,  not  without 
a  certain  vain  though  mournful  loftiness,  the  agent 
of  Destiny ;  hence,  when  Destiny  came  to  claim  self- 
sacrifice  at  his  hands,  he  met  it  with  familiar  greet- 
ing. 

Starting  out  to  welcome  that  which  he  termed  "  In- 
carnate Fate,''  he  made  his  way  farther  north,  and 
having  finally,  as  he  told  himself,  "  bound  the  Parcae 
with  their  own  thread,''  returned  to  Croatan. 

It  was  all  a  mystical  thrall,  dominant  and  positive, 
yet  vaguely  transcendental,  as  it  is  here  described. 
The  actual  was  resolved  instantly  to  the  poetical 
in  his  mind,  and  in  this,  the  beginning  of  the  final 
act  of  his  life's  drama,  he  became  that  astral  dreamer 
and  ether ealist  whom  a  few,  by  the  perceptive  com- 
prehension of  his  poetry,  have  recognized  and  un- 
derstood. 

On  re-entering  the  town,  Marlowe  sought  Eleanor 
Dare.  She  was  sitting  near  the  threshold  of  her  door 
with  Virginia,  w^ho,  slight,  pale,  and  more  visionary 
than  real,  watched  him  with  a  curious  eagerness 
and  joy  as  he  approached ;  for  Christopher  and  the 
Indian  youth  were,  with  the  exception  of  her  mother, 
the  sole  favorites  of  her  child  heart.  To  her  father 
Virginia  showed  a  peculiar  devotion,  but  this  was 
often  broken  by  moments  of  angry  rebellion,  while 
usually  with  Eleanor,  and  always  with  Manteo's  son, 
she  seemed  perfectly  in  accord. 

''  Mistress  Dare,  I  would  speak  to  you  now  bej^ond 
the  town,  where  no  interruption  can  break  in  upon 
my  sorrow." 

Before  Eleanor  could  reply,  the  child,  looking  up 
into  Marlowe's  face,  asked,  half  wistfully,  ''What 
is  sorrow?" 

231 


tt 


John  Vytal 

The  poet  gazed  down  at  her  and  smoothed  her  hair. 
"That  is  a  secret/'  he  answered,  kindly, 

''Whose  secret?''  she  demanded,  pouting.  "My 
mother's?" 

"Yes." 

"And  yours?" 

"Yes." 

"And  my  father's?" 

"Yes,  perhaps." 

"And  Captain  Vytal's?" 

The  poet  inchned  his  head.  "Ay,  truly,  his  as 
well." 

"And  is  it  the  dark  boy's?" 
Nay,  not  yet." 

Ah,  then  I  am  glad,"  said  Virginia,  with  a  sat- 
isfied air,  "  for  it  would  not  be  nice  if  he,  too,  had  a 
secret  that  I  did  not  know.  But  please  tell  me 
the  secret  about  sorrow.  Master  Christopher."  She 
tripped  over  the  long  name,  pronouncing  it  with  dif- 
ficulty. 

The  poet  smiled.  "Sorrow  is  the  secret  of  hap- 
piness, little  White  Doe;  and  some  day,  when  you 
have  lived  perhaps  a  million  years  up  near  the  sun 
and  are  entirely  happy,  you  will  say,  '  'Tis  all  be- 
cause I  guessed  the  secret  far  down  there.'  " 

She  looked  up  at  him,  her  eyes  sparkling  with  pleas- 
ure. "Tell  me  now,"  she  pleaded;  but  seeing  that 
he  had  already  forgotten,  she  turned  and,  with  a  pout, 
ran  off  to  seek  her  dusky  playfellow.  "Dark  boy," 
she  said,  on  finding  him  near  by,  "  I  am  glad  you  do 
not  know  the  secrets  1  don't  know." 

For  a  moment  Eleanor  watched  her  as  here  and 
there  in  the  distance  she  flitted  about  the  bronze 
figure. 

"I  can  in  no  way  comprehend  her.  Master  Mar- 
lowe." 

232 


A  Tale   of  the    Lost  Colony 

"Nay,  nor  shall  the  day  come  in  all  the  earthly 
future  when  she  shall  understand  herself.  Thus 
are  some  of  us  prescient  with  meaning,  yet  forever 
enigmatical,  save  to  —  save  to  —  shall  I  say  God?'' 

"'Yes,  to  God,''  replied  Eleanor,  simply;  and,  ris- 
ing, she  walked  with  Marlowe  into  the  fields  beyond 
the  town. 

For  several  minutes  they  went  on  in  silence,  she  in 
wonder  waiting  to  hear  what  he  would  say,  he  mel- 
ancholy and  wrapped  in  meditation.  At  last  they 
came  to  the  edge  of  a  wide  wheat-field,  over  which 
the  surface  of  the  sunlit  grain  swayed  and  rippled 
like  a  lake  of  pale  and  molten  gold.  As  the  poet 
looked  across  it  he  smiled  sadly,  yet  with  a  certain 
light  recklessness  of  manner  that  belied  the  former 
seriousness  of  his  look.  ''See,"  he  said,  ''the  wheat 
inclines  eastward;  the  wind  is  from  the  west.  I'd 
have  thee  remember.  Mistress  Dare,  that  if  in  the 
near  future  I  am  no  more  to  be  seen,  there  is  no  deep- 
er reason  in't  than  in  this  course  the  wind  doth  fol- 
low. To  America  1  came,  for  the  wind  blew  hither 
from  the  east.  The  wind  is  changed,  madam,  and 
so  my  way.     'Tis  Fate  ordains  this  brief  farewell." 

At  these  words  Eleanor  started  perceptibly,  her 
eyes  opening  wide  in  amazement.  "Farewell!"  she 
exclaimed.     "  0  sir,  what  mean  you  by  '  farewell '?" 

He  took  her  hand  and,  bending  low,  kissed  it  rev- 
erently. "1  cannot  say,  for,  alas!  many  know  the 
present  meaning,  but  none  the  hidden  prophecy,  of 
that  word  '  farewell. 

"Yet  surely.  Master  Marlowe,  you  contemplate 
no — 

"  Nay,"  he  rejoined,  with  a  vague  smile ;  "  I  shackle 
the  Fates  with  their  own  thread  for  but  a  single  day, 
and  not  forever."  Turning,  he  walked  away  on  the 
margin  of  the  wheat-field  that  now,  no  longer  golden^ 

233 


JohnVytal:  ATale  ofthe  Lost  Colony 

swaj^ed  and  whispered  beneath  an  umbrous  pall; 
and  Eleanor,  seeming  to  be  bound  by  the  spell  of 
his  mysticism,  could  only  watch  in  silence  his  grace- 
ful, receding  figure  while  the  tall  wheat-blades  bent 
forward  and  touched  him  as  he  passed.  When  at  last 
he  was  about  to  disappear,  she  would  have  started 
after  him,  but  at  this  instant  Virginia,  flitting  as 
though  from  nowhere  to  her  mother's  side,  called  out 
to  him,  "Come  back!"  He  turned.  '' Please,  Mas- 
ter Kyt,  come  back  and  tell  me  the  secret.'' 

But  Marlowe  only  shook  his  head,  and,  waving 
his  hand,  went  forward  with  light  footsteps  into  the 
woods. 


i 


CHAPTER  XXI 

"It  lies  not  in  our  power  to  love  or  hate, 
For  will  in  us  is  overrul'd  by  fate." 

— Marlowe,  in  Hero  and  Leander. 

As  the  poet  made  his  way  through  the  forest  he 
came  suddenly  on  a  scene  that  caused  him  to  pause, 
laugh,  quicken  his  pace,  and  turn  aside  to  another 
trail,  by  which  he  reached  the  shore.  Here,  shrug- 
ging his  shoulders,  he  sat  down  on  the  sand,  looking 
back  now  and  then  as  if  waiting  to  be  joined  by  some 
one  who  occupied  his  thoughts.  Whether  or  not  this 
person  would  come  he  could  not  be  sure,  since  the 
scene  just  witnessed  had  disclosed  a  new  phase  of  the 
situation  in  which  he  had  placed  himself. 

In  the  clearing  which  he  had  just  passed  sat  Gyll 
Croyden  looking  up  at  Roger  Prat,  who  stood  before 
her  in  an  attitude  of  indecision  and  unaccustomed 
solemnity,  while  the  bear  regarded  them  drowsily 
from  the  overhanging  branches  of  a  tree.  What 
transpired  between  the  man  and  woman  Marlowe 
could  not  definitely  surmise,  yet  the  result  of  their 
conversation  was  to  subvert  completely  his  own 
future. 

"  Now,  I  tell  you,"  said  Prat,  after  the  sound  of 
footsteps  had  died  away,  ''  I  am  a  peculiar  person- 
age.'' He  sank  his  chin  deep  into  its  triple  sub- 
structure and  surveyed  her  with  perplexity.  In  his 
hand  he  held  an  Indian  pipe,  whose  wreaths  of  smoke 
rose  and  cast  a  veil  before  his  face,  through  which 

235 


John  Vytal 

his  troubled,  protruding  eyes  looked  out  with  ghost- 
ly light. 

"A  peculiar  hobgoblin/'  corrected  Gyll,  laugh- 
ing more  from  nervousness  than  mirth — "a.  dear 
hobgoblin." 

He  eyed  her  reproachfully.  ''  Oh,  you  may  deride 
me  with  unflattering  names/'  he  said,  "  but  it  makes 
no  difference.  Mark  you,  until  now  there  has  been 
one  thing  only  which  could  make  Roger  Prat  turn 
on  his  heel  and  run  for  dear  life.  This  was  the  sight 
of  a  petticoat ;  but,  alack !  I  am  changed,  most  mis- 
erably changed,  and,  by  some  perversity,  my  new 
courage  seems  cowardice  as  well.  For  I  take  it  that 
a  really  brave  man  nerves  himself  to  retreat  before 
the  bombardment  of  a  wench's  eyes.  'Tis  the  cow- 
ard who  succumbs." 

Gyll  pouted.  ''  Run  away,  then,  and  prove  your- 
self a  soldier."  But  he  shook  his  head  with  ponder- 
ous gravity,  and,  curiously  enough,  the  unprece- 
dented soberness  of  his  manner  spread  to  her.  ''  Oh, 
you  would  stay.  Now,  I  am  glad  of  that.  Sir  Goblin," 
and,  rising,  she  stood  facing  him,  with  a  hand  on  each 
of  his  bulky  shoulders.  ''  I  am  glad,  Roger,"  she  re- 
peated, in  a  softer  tone.  ''  For  dost  know  that,  with  all 
my  gallants,  with  the  memory  of  all  those  faces  up- 
turned and  kisses  thrown  to  my  window  on  the  Bank- 
side,  'tis  a  common  fighting  man  I  would  marry? — a 
great,  cumbersome  roly-poly,  a  mountain,  a  heathen 
image,  call  him  what  you  will,  yet  to  me  he  hath  so 
light  a  heart,  so  quaint  a  way,  so  sturdy  a  courage, 
that  methinks  he  hath  already  won  me." 

At  this,  either  a  recollection  of  her  long-lost  girl- 
hood or  a  play  of  mere  wanton  coquetry — she  herself 
did  not  know  which — caused  her  to  cast  down  her 
eyes,  while  the  flush  of  her  cheeks  deepened  vividly. 
For  an  instant  Prat  seemed  to  sway,  as  though  his 

236 


A  Tale   of  the   Lost  Colony 

legs  with  an  effort  supported  his  corpulent  body, 
and  the  perplexity  of  his  look  increased.  Instinc- 
tively he  thrust  the  pipe -stem  between  his  teeth, 
and,  gazing  up  at  King  Lud,  blew  a  cloud  of  smoke 
into  the  branches.  The  bear  looked  down  through 
it,  blinking  and  sniffing  at  his  master,  while  for  a 
moment  Roger  himself  was  almost  completely  en- 
veloped. 

''Thou  imp  of  Uppowac,''  quoth  Gyll,  stepping 
back  with  a  grimace,  "is  this  thy  only  response 
to  my  condescension?''  and  she  made  as  though  to 
start  away  into  the  forest.  But  Roger,  suddenly 
all-forgetful  of  his  dilemma,  waddled  after  her. 

''Nay,  stay,''  he  called,  apprehensively;  "stay, 
and  permit  me  to  collect  my  scattered  wits." 

She  turned  and  laughed  with  scornful  badinage. 
"  Stay?"  she  echoed ;  "  and  wherefore,  pray?  Merely 
that  you  may  blow  tobacco  fumes  into  my  eyes  and 
blind  them  to  the  charm  of  your  countenance?" 

"Oh  no,"  he  remonstrated.  "In  troth,  I  blew 
the  smoke  to  hide  the  face  of  his  wondering  majesty 
above.  His  red  eyes  and  sniffing  snout  seemed  to 
condemn  and  scorn  me.  There,  I'll  smoke  no  more," 
and,  knocking  out  the  pipe's  ashes,  he  restored  it 
quickly  to  his  belt. 

Seeming  to  be  mollified  by  this,  Gyll  sat  down 
again  on  the  grass,  while  the  new  softness  of  her  ex- 
pression returned.  "Prithee,  Roger,  make  up  your 
mind  on  that  which  troubles  it,  for  if  again  I  start, 
I  go,  and  there's  the  end." 

He  gazed  at  her  for  a  moment  with  solemn  eyes, 
and  now  she  smiled  in  an  almost  womanly  way  in- 
stead of  laughing  wantonly.  "Tell  me,  Gyll,  dost 
really — dost  truly? — "  but  he  broke  off  for  want  of  a 
word. 

"Truly  what?"  she  asked,  in  a  low  voice. 

237 


John  Vytal 

His  chin  sank  into  its  underfolds  again,  and  he 
twirled  a  pair  of  globular  thumbs  tentatively.  ''  Dost 
truly  have  that  feeling  for  me  which  the  poet  would 
call  'love'?^' 

The  question  touched  her  sense  of  the  ludicrous 
keenly,  yet  his  astonishing  earnestness  underlying 
it  must  have  reached  a  deeper  sense,  for  still  she 
only  smiled  instead  of  laughing,  and  answered, 
"Yes." 

At  this  his  rotund  face  grew  brighter.  ''Come, 
then,  to  the  Oxford  preacher,  Gyll,  before  we  change 
our  minds;''  and,  nothing  loath,  she  rose  quietly. 

"  Change  our  minds,  Roger  !  I,  for  one,  shall 
ne'er  do  that.'' 

''Nay,"  he  said,  "nay,  I  pray  you,  do  not  change. 
Oh,  that  would  be  dire  misfortune;"  whereon,  pick- 
ing up  the  end  of  King  Lud's  chain,  which  dangled 
from  the  tree,  he  tugged  thereat  until  the  beast,  with 
a  good-humored  growl,  descended.  For  an  instant 
the  sight  of  her  animal  friend  brought  the  old,  care- 
less look  to  Gyll's  face  —  there  was  something  so 
drolly  suggestive  of  Roger  in  the  bear's  bandy  legs 
and  awkward  gait.  A  fit  of  devil-may-care  reck- 
lessness seized  her.  The  strain  of  even  a  mo- 
ment's seriousness  on  such  a  nature  being  unendur- 
able, breaks  in  the  end,  and,  as  when  a  supporting 
rope  is  severed  without  warning  the  one  who  has 
been  held  thereby  falls  suddenly,  so  the  snapping 
of  a  moral  stay  leaves  one  sprawling  in  abandon- 
ment. 

Gyll  went  to  the  extreme  of  flippancy.  "Come," 
she  said.  "  Look  at  King  Lud.  Let  him  give  us  his 
blessing.  Let  him  tie  the  knot  with  his  great  paws 
upon  our  heads.  1  much  mislike  real  parsons;  we 
will  have  none  o'  them.  I'll  bind  myself  to  no  man. 
'Please  one,  please  all,'  as  the  song  hath  it — 'please 

238 


A  Tale   of  the    Lost  Colony 

one,  please  all/"  So  saying,  she  was  on  the  point  of 
profaning  her  troth  by  kneeHng,  with  a  laugh,  before 
the  bear,  when  a  glance  at  Prat  restrained  her.  The 
soldier  had  started  back  with  an  oath.  His  eyes, 
enraged  as  she  had  never  seen  them,  were  lowering, 
and  his  breath  came  quickly.  With  one  hand  he 
ground  the  bear's  chain  until  its  links  grated  as  if 
they  must  break  in  the  tight-clinched  fist,  while  with 
the  other  he  sought  his  hip,  and  the  fat  palm  ignored 
his  flute  and  Uppowac  pipe  to  cool  itself  on  the  metal 
of  his  sword. 

Gyll  drew  back  in  amaze.  ''How  now,  goblin,'' 
she  asked,  with  not  a  little  terror;  ''art  gone  wholly 
mad?" 

He  said  nothing,  but  slowly  his  expression  al- 
tered until  a  mingling  of  grief  and  cold  repulsion 
told  her  of  his  inward  change.  "  I  would  have  risked 
a  wedding,"  he  said,  at  last,  and  drawing  the  bear 
to  his  side.  "  I  would  have  made  you  honest  wife, 
and  not  ungladly,  for  I  felt  a  kind  o'  love — ah,  a  deal 
o'  love — for  you,  Gyll;  but  I'm  a  peculiar  personage, 
and  not  irreverent  to  men  o'  God  and  church -like 
things,  be  I  rake  or  no.  Faith,  ye're  a  most  heart- 
less jade,  who'll  ne'er  be  wife  o'  mine.  Ye've  shown 
yourself.  For  that  I  thank  thee;"  whereat  he  turned 
on  his  heel  and,  leading  away  King  Lud,  disappeared 
in  the  forest. 

For  a  moment  Gyll  stood  listening,  and  once  she 
called,  but  only  the  clank,  clank  of  the  bear's  chain, 
growing  fainter  and  more  faint  in  the  distance,  an- 
swered her  unhappy  cry.  Finally,  when  the  sound 
had  died,  a  flood  of  tears  fell  from  her  eyes,  but  quick- 
ly she  brushed  them  away,  then,  turning,  walked 
in  the  direction  of  the  shore,  and  forced  from  her 
tremulous  lips  a  song,  popular  at  the  time  in  South- 
wark: 

239 


John  Vytal 


"Be  merry,  friends,  and  take  no  thought; 
For  worldly  cares  now  care  ye  naught. 
For  whoso  doth,  when  all  is  fought. 
Shall  find  that  thought  availeth  not — 
Be  merry,  friends." 

Her  voice  sounded  low,  its  lilt  for  once  seeming 
artificial.  The  friends  she  strove  to  cheer  were  her 
own  thoughts  —  new,  discomforting  thoughts  —  yet 
perhaps  more  truly  friends  than  all  their  predeces- 
sors. She  persisted,  however,  in  dro waning  the  inward 
mutter  of  their  realization  with  her  voice's  melody : 

"To  take  our  sorrows  mournfully, 
Augmenteth  but  oiir  malady; 
But  taking  sorrows  merrily 
Maketh  them  smaller,  verily — 
Be  merry,  friends." 

And  now  the  notes  of  a  flute  came  to  her  from  afar, 
half  in  accompaniment  of  her  tune : 

"Let  the  world  slide,  let  the  world  go; 
A  fig  for  care  and  a  fig  for  woe! 
If  I  can't  pay,  why,  I  can  owe; 
And  death  makes  equal  the  high  and  low — 
Be  merry,  friends!"- 

The  last  words  came  in  faltering  tones  that  utter- 
ly belied  their  meaning,  while  from  the  distance  the 
flute's  music  ended  in  that  wild  wail  which  now,  more 
than  ever,  denoted  a  finale. 

In  a  few  minutes  Gyll  joined  Marlowe  on  the  shore. 
"Ah,  you  have  come,"  he  said,  rising. 

She  laughed.  ''So  it  seems;  but  wherefore,  Kyt, 
did  you  so  mysteriously  arrange  this  meeting?" 

He  made  an  impatient  gesture.  "  Wilt  swear  to  say 
nothing  of  my  tidings  to  any  in  the  town?" 

''  Yea,  if  it  pleases  your  poetic  soul  thus  to  weave 
mysteries,  I  make  no  remonstrance." 

240 


A  Tale   of  the  Lost  Colony 

He  scrutinized  her  silently  until,  at  last,  being 
satisfied,  he  spoke  again.  "I  leave  for  England, 
Gyll,  this  very  day/' 

Her  eyes  opened  wide,  and  she  stared  at  him  as  at 
one  demented.  ''  Leave  for  England,  Kyt !  Thou'rt 
mad!" 

"Nay,''  he  returned,  calmly.  ''Listen.  For  I 
know  not  how  many  days  and  months  I  have  scanned 
the  sea  far  to  the  northward.  For  an  eternity  I  have 
seen  naught  save  gulls  and  waves,  but  at  last  a  sail 
hath  come,  as  1  knew  it  would.  Nor  is  it  surprising 
that  I  waited  expectantly,  for  while  in  England  I 
had  heard  that  every  year  as  many  as  five  hundred 
ships  found  their  way  to  the  great  countrj^  wliich 
Martin  Frobisher  explored.  'Tis  called  Newfound- 
land, and  off  its  banks  myriads  of  fish  are  caught  by 
the  men  of  Brittany,  Normandy,  and  nearly  all  the 
provinces  of  France.  Was  it  not  likely,  therefore, 
that  one  of  these  fishing-vessels,  returning  with  its 
catch,  should  follow  the  coast  of  this  continent  until 
it  came  to  southern  waters  ?  Well,  likely  or  not,  the 
thing  hath  happened.  A  Breton  shallop  lies  to  the 
north  and  awaits  me,  for  I  builded  a  fire  and  sig- 
nalled to  it.  Three  mariners  came  ashore,  and,  to 
one  who  understood  the  French  language,  I  ex- 
plained that  I  was  a  castaway.  Thus  they  think 
me  a  shipwrecked  sailor,  and  I  have  allayed  their 
curiosity.  Otherwise,  no  doubt,  they  would  have 
come  prying  about  Croatan.  These  men  have  prom- 
ised to  land  me  on  the  coast  of  France  or  Ireland.'' 
He  paused,  seeming  to  question  her  with  a  look, 
but  for  answer  she  only  threw  an  arm  about  his 
neck. 

''Oh,  Kyt,  art  really  going?  I  cannot  believe  'tis 
true." 

""Ay,  'tis  very  truth." 
Q  241 


John  Vytal 

She  looked  up  into  his  dark  eyes  with  a  troubled 
expression.  ''Tell  nie,  dreamer,  why  do  you  de- 
part so  secretly,  and  why,  indeed,  at  all?'' 

Secretly,''  he  answered,  with  renewed  vagueness, 

because  in  secret  Destiny  works;  I  for  to-day  am 
Fate,  and  keep  these  colonists  to  their  dut3^  as  Vytal 
and  Mistress  Dare  have  done.  Were  they  to  know 
of  the  vessel's  proximity,  they  would  in  a  moment  be 
havoc-struck.  Ananias  would  start  an  insurrection 
and  incite  them  to  seize  the  shallop.  This  must 
not  be.     I  go  alone,  or  with — " 

She  interrupted  him.     ''Why,  why  do  you  go?" 

He  raised  himself  to  his  full  height.  "Because 
a  voice,  calling  me  in  whispers,  so  decrees.  I 
shall  seek  audience  with  the  queen  and  Raleigh  to 
demand  the  forwarding  of  supplies  and  men  to 
Virginia."  He  paused,  a  look  of  despondency  cross- 
ing his  face.  "But  would  I  could  foresee  suc- 
cess. Alas!  I  cannot.  Some  godless  curse  rests 
on  this  colony,  whose  spirit  is  in  the  very  air  we 
breathe."  He  looked  darkly  into  the  distance,  as 
though  the  hitherto  invisible  had  come  within  the 
range  of  sight.  Then,  however,  as  he  heard  a  sob 
from  the  w^oman  beside  him,  his  expression  changed. 
The  earnestness  of  the  moment  seemed  to  pall  upon 
him,  and  he  laughed  carelessly. 

Untying  a  silken  kerchief  from  her  neck,  he  held 
it  aloft  so  that  it  hung  lightly  on  the  breeze,  its  soft 
ends  fluttering  toward  the  sea.  "This  is  the  true 
reason,"  he  said,  inconsequently.  "The  wind  blows 
eastward." 

Her  eyes  were  smiling  now  behind  her  tears.  "  May 
not  I  go  thither  also?"  she  asked,  breathlessly.  "I 
cannot  stay  behind.  'Faith,  all  the  colony  hath 
turned  against  me.  The  parson  would  have  me 
married  or  banished,  were  there  chance  of  either  fate. 

242 


A  Tale   of  the  Lost    Colony 

Besides  —  Fd  be  more  comfortable  in  Southwark," 
she  added,  with  a  note  of  hardness  in  her  ever-chang- 
ing voice. 

He  pressed  her  hand  pityingly.  ''As  you  like, 
Gyll.  'Tis  but  natural  you  desire  to  return.  Nei- 
ther you  nor  I  were  made  for  this.  Our  parts  were 
writ  to  be  played  in  London.  I  go  aboard  the  shal- 
lop within  an  hour,  but  it  waits  too  far  for  you.  To- 
night we'll  anchor  to  the  southward.  Do  you  slip 
away  and  await  me  on  the  southern  shore.  What- 
ever you  do,  remember  one  thing :  none  must  know 
of  our  departure.  Nay,  postpone  thy  thanks,  Gyll, 
for  here  comes  Vytal  by  appointment.'' 

She  turned,  and,  on  seeing  the  soldier,  who  alone 
of  all  men  inspired  her  with  awe,  made  her  way 
quickly  to  the  town. 

As  Vytal  joined  Marlowe,  they  spoke  at  once  of 
that  which  paramountly  filled  their  minds.  ''I  am 
ready  to  start,"  said  Christopher.  "  The  shallop  lies 
north  of  Hatarask.'' 

''Then,''  returned  Vytal,  "let  us  go  to  it  at  once. 
I  will  accompany  you  thither." 

They  walked  along  the  shore.  "  We  can  speedily 
reach  the  place,"  said  Marlowe,  who  was  oppressed 
with  the  other's  silence ;  "I  have  left  a  canoe  on  the 
northern  beach." 

Vytal  inclined  his  head,  as  who  should  say,  "I 
supposed  so." 

The  poet's  eyes  saddened.  "Your  muteness  is 
hard  to  brook." 

"Nay,  Kyt,  I  count  it  kind  to  both  of  us." 

"Wherefore  kind?" 

"  Because,  when  the  heart  is  sick,  words  but  pain 
it  more." 

"You  regret,  then,  my  departure?" 

"  For  my  own  sake,  deeply.    We  have  been  friends. " 

243 


John  Vytal 

"Ay/'  said  the  poet,  ''friends.  Friendship's  the 
reaUty ;  love  but  a  pleasant  dream.  1  look  back  over 
the  past  five  years  and  think  of  our  conversations.  I 
recall,  too,  those  few  hours  when  I  talked  with  Mis- 
tress Dare.  The  difference  is  plain.  Man  and  man 
enjoy  the  freer  reverie.  No  personal  distraction  mars 
their  elemental  thought.  They  become  unbiased 
lookers-on  at  life,  unfettered  by  the  stage  directions. 
To  them  the  lover's  star  hath  varied  cosmic  mean- 
ings which  far  transcend  its  amorous  spell.  To  them 
all  nature  shows  her  heart,  and  not  the  mere  reflec- 
tion of  their  own.  Ay,  only  w^ith  man  and  man  is 
meditation  free  —  unless  —  of  course,  unless  —  the 
dream  of  love  hath  proven  true."  The  last  words 
came  in  a  voice  of  pain,  which,  however,  passed 
as  he  added,  mechanically,  ''But  come,  here  is  the 
canoe." 

Following  the  poet,  Vytal  stepped  into  the  craft, 
and  with  a  single  stroke  of  his  paddle  sent  it  far 
out  across  the  inlet.  With  long,  slow  sweeps  he 
propelled  it  on  in  silence,  while  Marlowe,  facing 
him,  gazed  at  the  sharp-cut  features  with  a  kind  of 
worship  in  his  eyes. 

"Hath  any  yet  known  you,  Vytal?  Hath  one 
single  man  or  woman  probed  your  depths?" 

Vytal  shrugged  his  shoulders  for  reply,  then  said, 
in  a  voice  that  sounded  harsh  even  to  himself,  "  We 
are  come  to  your  starting-point,"  and,  as  they  land- 
ed, "Where  is  the  ship?" 

"Five  miles  to  the  north." 

"Let  us  hasten,  then,  by  the  shore." 

They  walked  for  many  minutes  mutely,  until  Vy- 
tal spoke  as  though  half  to  himself :  "I  would  have 
made  the  sacrifice  in  your  stead,  but  for  these  chil- 
dren of  Croatan,  these  helpless  colonists,  who  are  in 
my  charge." 

244 


A  Tale    of  the    Lost    Colony 

The  poet's  eyes  lighted  up  with  their  old  fervor. 
''I  know  it  well,  for  partly  I  know  you/'  His  eyes 
wandered.  ''Yet  I  cannot  say  that,  were  I  you,  I 
would  have  left  her  even  for  friendship's  sake.  I 
read  you,  I  read  myself — you  as  mighty  prose,  I,  it 
sometimes  seems,  as  vainly  garnished  poetry.  Mar- 
lowe would  whisper  to  her,  'My  soul  sings  thine/ 
but  Vytal  would  say,  'I  love  thee.'  Methinks  in 
these  very  words  lie  our  inmost  selves  contrasted." 
Turning  again  to  look  at  his  companion,  he  found 
the  dark  face  averted,  but  when  at  last  he  saw  its 
deep-graven,  premature  lines  again,  he  found  no 
change  in  the  expression. 

"I  trust  you  will  make  every  effort,"  said  Vytal, 
"to  gain  audience  with  the  queen." 

"  Yes,  I  swear  it,  but  I  fear  'twill  prove  of  no  avail. 
White  hath  not  returned,  nor  shall  I,  nor  shall  any 
man.  Tell  me,  hast  not  felt  that,  with  all  thy  power, 
thou  and  these  people  are  foredoomed?"  But  as  he 
received  no  answer,  Marlowe  became  resigned  to  the 
taciturnity  of  his  friend.  After  all  these  years  he 
was  forced  to  confess  that  even  now,  in  what  he  be- 
lieved to  be  the  final  parting,  he  could  not  touch  his 
comrade's  depths,  or  even,  touching  them,  elicit  re- 
sponse save  the  look  and  intense  voice  that  told 
him  of  Vytal's  friendship.  "Nevertheless,  there  is 
but  one  man,"  he  resumed  at  length,  as  though  to 
himself,  "  who  of  all  merits  your  fear.  I  speak  of — " 
He  broke  off  suddenly.     "Hark!  what  was  that?" 

They  stood  still,  intently  listening. 

A  low  "Whist!"  reached  their  ears  from  the  adja- 
cent woods, 

"Foh!"  exclaimed  Christopher.  " 'Twas  but  the 
hissing  of  a  snake." 

"Nay,"  said  Vytal,  "wait !" 

The  words  were  no  sooner  spoken  than  the  dusky 

245 


John  Vytal:  A  Tale  ofthe  Lost  Colony 

figure  of  Manteo  emerged  from  the  forest,  and  the 
Indian  approached  them  with  noiseless  step.  ''My 
brother,  have  a  care.  I  waited  that  I  might  warn 
thee.  Two  men,  lying  concealed  to  the  northward, 
curiously  watch  the  ship  at  anchor.  The  one  is 
Towaye,  the  other  3^our  countryman  who  named 
himself  'Ralph  Contempt! 


t}  )t 


CHAPTER  XXII 

**I,  and  the  Catholic  Phihp,  King  of  Spain, 
Ere  I  shall  want,  will  cause  his  Indians 
To  rip  the  golden  bowels  of  America.'' 

— Marlowe,  in  The  Massacre  at  Paris. 

"Ralph  Conteaipt!" 

The  name  transformed  them  instantly.  The  old 
perfervid  recklessness  rekindled  fire  in  Marlowe's 
eyes,  while  the  lineaments  of  Vytal's  face  contracted 
and  grew  sharper  with  rigid  hate. 

"Let  one  of  us  return/'  suggested  the  poet,  "and 
bring  a  force  to  help  capture  him.  It  cannot  be  that 
he  is  alone  with  Towaye.'' 

Vytal  dissented.  "  We  should  lose  time  by  going 
to  Croatan,  and  even  the  absence  of  one  would  jeopard 
our  chances.  If  we  find  we  need  assistance,  Manteo 
can  seek  it  later.  It  is  most  probable  that,  alone  or 
not,  Frazer  will  strive  either  to  board  the  shallop  and 
sail  or  to  prevent  you  from  doing  so.'' 

"  How  so  ?    He  has  no  knowledge  of  my  intention. " 

"Be  not  so  sure.  The  conjectures  of  Frazer  are 
as  good  as  certainty.  Doubtless  he  has  already 
guessed  the  meaning  of  the  ship,  for  it  would  not  lie 
there  idly  waiting  without  reason.  Quick  I  We  must 
meet  the  two  and  take  them  by  ourselves.  Lead  us, 
Manteo,  that  we  may  come  upon  them  unobserv^ed. " 

Without  a  word  the  Indian  re-entered  the  woods, 
and,  coming  to  a  trail  that  ran  parallel  with  the  coast- 
line, made  a  sign  to  the  others,  bidding  them  avoid 
dry  brushwood  on  the  pathway  that  their  tread  might 

247 


John  Vytal 

be  unheard.  For  some  time  they  followed  him,  cau- 
tiously keeping  on  a  strip  of  mossy  earth  which  bor- 
dered the  trail  and  muffled  their  footsteps.  It  was 
now  high  noon,  and  the  sun  shone  in  a  clear  sky. 
March,  just  dying  into  April,  had  lost  its  harshness 
at  sight  of  spring  and  grown  more  tender,  as  a  crabbed 
parent  grows  tender  with  the  child  of  his  old  age.  The 
air,  bracing  and  clear,  seemed  to  fill  their  lungs  with 
a  breath  of  immortal  life,  while  the  sea's  untroubled 
breast,  just  visible  through  rifts  in  the  arras  of  blos- 
soms, bespoke  a  joy  too  deep  for  surface  emotion. 

Finally,  as  their  guide  turned  with  finger  to  lips, 
Vytal  and  Marlowe  halted.  Through  a  low  interstice 
in  the  foliage  a  sight  met  their  eyes  which,  although 
expected,  caused  them  to  draw  their  weapons  in- 
stantly, for  on  the  shore  stood  Towaye,  with  bow 
in  hand,  facing  their  cover,  and  beside  him  Frazer, 
lying  on  the  beach,  idly  patting  the  sand  into  little 
moulds,  as  a  child  builds  toy  castles.  The  beach, 
sandy  and  shelving,  rose  gradually  on  either  side, 
until,  terminating  in  two  high  ridges  or  bulwarks 
of  sand,  it  fell  away  again  in  long,  fiat  sweeps  to 
the  north  and  south.  Thus  Frazer  and  Towaye  oc- 
cupied a  naturally  fortified  square,  two  sides  of  which 
were  formed  by  the  sand-bank  and  two  by  forest  and 
water.  To  reach  them  unobserved  was  therefore 
impossible,  and  an  open  encounter  must  necessarily 
ensue.  As  the  odds  favored  the  aggressors  by  three 
to  two,  there  appeared  to  be  small  hazard  in  boldly 
forcing  an  issue.  Unfortunately,  however,  Manteo 
was  unarmed  save  for  a  wooden  truncheon,  and 
Vytal  carried  only  his  rapier.  But  Marlowe,  ready 
to  defend  himself  against  Breton  mutineers  or  pirates 
on  the  high  seas,  was  better  provided,  his  rapier 
being  supplemented  by  a  pistol  and  poniard.  Ordi- 
narily,  with  these  weapons   he  would  have  found 

248 


A  Tale  of  the  Lost   Colony 

no  difficulty  in  placing  Towaye  hors  de  combat,  but 
the  occasion  demanded  unusual  strategy. 

"  Your  dagger  to  Manteo, ' '  whispered  Vy tal.  ''  Cov- 
er Towaye  with  the  firearm.  Nay,  don't  shoot  from 
here.  You  are  too  far  for  accuracy.  If  possible, 
merely  wound  him.  We  must  take  the  Indian  alive 
and  force  him  to  reveal  Frazer's  motives.  Where  is 
the  shallop?'' 

''Farther  on  beyond  the  headland.'^ 

"Good!     Now  at  them!" 

Side  by  side  the  three  emerged  quickly  from  the 
woods.  A  sudden  viperish  hiss  from  his  ally  caused 
Frazer  to  turn  instantly,  and  the  enemies  stood  face 
to  face.  Swiftly  Towaye  started  to  raise  his  bow, 
but  swifter  still  Marlowe's  pistol  sprang  to  a  dead- 
ly aim.  Yet  the  poet,  fearing  to  kill,  withheld 
his  bullet.  In  the  next  instant  he  would  have 
changed  his  aim  and  fired,  but  the  risk  of  missing 
his  opponent  altogether  and  receiving  the  arrow  in 
his  own  breast  held  him  motionless.  Thus  between 
these  two  there  was  temporarily  a  deadlock,  while 
both  stood  transfixedly  waiting  for  the  slightest  error 
of  movement  on  the  other's  part. 

Vytal,  however,  being  in  the  first  second  unim- 
peded, rushed  toward  his  adversary  with  rapier  drawn. 

''Halt!"  The  peremptory  cry  came  from  Frazer 
in  a  sharp  note  of  menace,  as,  guarding  himself 
with  a  rapier  in  one  hand,  he  now  raised  with  the 
other  a  small  curved  horn  to  his  lips.  Keeping  it 
poised  as  though  ready  at  an  instant  to  sound  an 
alarum,  he  called  threateningly:  "Two  hundred 
Winginas  lie  within  the  forest  waiting.  A  single 
blast  means  death  to  each  of  you;"  then,  with  a 
laugh,  "  I  pray  you  reconsider  the  expediency  of  at- 
tacking me  now." 

Vytal  stood  still,  controlling  himself  by  a  great 

249 


John  Vytal 

effort.  In  his  place  doubtless  the  poet  and  many 
another  would  have  rushed  forward  with  rash  im- 
petuosity, but  the  campaigner's  trained  hand  could 
even  compass  that  which  to  a  brave  soldier  in  the 
heat  of  fight  is  the  most  difi&cult  of  tactics,  namely, 
the  lowering  of  his  sw^ord. 

The  two  men  stood  at  gaze,  Vytal  fettered  by  the 
realization  that  his  own  death  would  in  all  proba- 
bility mean  the  decimation  of  the  whole  colony,  and 
Frazer  by  the  rigid  Fate  before  him. 

For  once  the  soldier  hesitated.  Instinct  hinted 
that  threats  of  alarum  were  empty,  but  reason  de- 
manded caution.  The  possibility  that  an  overwhelm- 
ing force  lay  near  at  hand  in  ambush  was  by  no 
means  slight. 

Suddenly  Vytal  uttered  a  low  order  to  Manteo, 
who  thereupon,  step  by  step,  retreated  almost  imper- 
ceptibly toward  the  woods. 

''Halt!''  Again  the  horn  touched  Frazer's  lips. 
"1  forbid  you,"  he  said,  ''to  arouse  the  settlers.'' 
But  Manteo  only  looked  to  Vytal  for  a  sign. 

"Remain,"  said  the  latter,  calmly,  and  the  dead- 
lock was  now  complete. 

"It  is  strange.  Master  Frazer,"  observed  the  poet, 
still  covering  Towaye  with  his  pistol,  "that  your 
horn  forbears  so  long.  In  troth,  I  begin  to  doubt 
its  ef&cacy." 

Frazer  laughed.  "At  any  instant  I  am  ready  to 
prove  it.  Sir  Poet.  'Troth,  'tis  only  a  feeling  of  kind- 
ness that  delays  your  doom,  mingled  perhaps  with 
a  slight  curiosity.  Doom,  say  I  ?  Yea,  doom.  This 
colony  will  perish.  Perchance  you  know  not  that 
John  White,  your  governor,  hath  come  to  the  very 
shore  of  Roanoke  and  departed.'"   His  own  men  played 

*See  White's  personal  account  of  his  failure  in  Hakluyt's 
Voyages, 

250 


A  Tale   of  the    Lost  Colony 

mutineers.  He  could  not  seek  you  at  Croatan.  Ay, 
on  my  oath,  'fore  God,  a  ship  came  and  went 
away.  'Tis  common  report  in  England.  Roanoke 
is  deserted,  say  they;  Virginia,  a  savage  wilder- 
ness.'' 

Glancing  at  Vytal,  whose  face  had  gone  livid  as 
death,  he  laughed  derisively.  ''Therefore  I  blame 
you  not.  Sir  Soldier,"  he  added,  with  feigned  con- 
tempt, ''for  jDlanning  this  secret  desertion." 

"  Desertion  V  cried  Marlowe.  "  Fool  !  Think 
you  John  Vytal  would  desert?"  But  his  outburst 
was  suddenly  interrupted  by  Vytal.  "  Look  to  your 
lock  !  Have  a  care,  Towaye  !  an  the  arrow  rises 
another  inch,  you  fall."  Marlowe  regained  his  aim, 
yet  his  thoughts  returned  immediately  to  Frazer. 
"  Fool,"  he  repeated.     "  Tis  I  who—" 

"Hush!"  said  Vytal. 

But  the  warning  was  too  late,  and  Frazer  laughed 
once  more.  "  Ay,  hush  now,  an  you  will,  for  the  se- 
cret's out.  'Twas  for  this  I  mentioned  Vytal.  It 
shall  now  be  my  duty — I  may  say  my  delight — to 
detain  yoit." 

With  an  oath  Marlowe  started  as  though  he  would 
have  rushed  upon  the  man  who  so  daringly  taunted 
and  harassed  them.  But  a  word  from  Vytal,  more 
sudden  and  apprehensive  than  before,  again  re- 
strained him. 

"Beware!" 

Towaye's  bowstring  was  already  pulled,  and  in 
the  next  second  an  arrow  grazed  Marlowe's  cheek. 
With  a  cry  to  Manteo  the  poet  rushed  forward.  "  We 
have  him  now!     Quick!     Bind  his  arms!" 

"Halt!"  For  the  third  time  Frazer 's  lips  seemed 
to  kiss  affectionately  the  horn.  "A  move,  a  shot, 
and,  by  God,  I  blow!" 

The  poet,  impotent  with  rage,  stood  still,  and  Man- 

251 


John  Vytal 

teo  once  more  haughtily  obeyed  the  order.  Even 
Vytal,  in  whose  e3''es  a  dangerous  light  gleamed 
cruelly,  made  no  advance.  A  bold  plan  was  quickly 
maturing  in  his  mind.  To  hide  it  he  exclaimed,  as 
though  chagrined,  ''Cursed  horn,  it  defeats  us!  I 
can  fight  against  swordsmen,  not  musicians.'' 

Frazer  started,  seemingly  with  a  new  impulse. 
"  So  be  it,  then.  I  fear  not  your  little  bodkin.  Come, 
we  will  decide  the  issue  with  our  blades.'' 

Vytal's  plan,  however,  prohibited  a  duel.  ''Nay, 
there  is  trickery  in  the  suggestion.  Besides,  I  do 
not  of  a  choice  tilt  with  stage- jesters." 

At  this  Frazer  appeared  to  become  enraged  as  they 
had  never  seen  him.  "Stage- jester  !"  he  cried, 
hoarsely.  "Dost  know,  sirrah,  who  it  is  you  thus 
address  ?  Who  am  I  ? "  The  question  came  in  a  tone 
of  high  fury,  and,  receiving  no  response,  he  answered 
it  himself,  as  if  the  assertion  burst  from  him  against 
his  will.  "I  am  not  Frazer,  not  Ralph  Contempt, 
but  Arthur  Dudley.  Dost  hear?  Arthur  Dudley, 
the  son  of  Elizabeth  and  Leicester!"  His  manner, 
calming,  became  supercilious.  "Gentlemen,  you 
see  before  you  the  heir  apparent  to  the  English 
throne." 

" Liar!"  It  was  Alarlowe  who  spoke,  and  then  for 
a  moment  there  was  silence,  while  Frazer's  lip  curled 
scornfully. 

"Oh,  you  doubt  me,  gentles.  Yet  I  care  not." 
He  took  on  a  grandiose  air,  whether  natural  or  as- 
sumed, they  could  not  tell.  "  I  seek  not  to  convince 
such  men  as  you.  There  is  one  even  greater  than 
my  mother  who  knows  the  truth.  I  speak  of  the 
King  of  Spain  !"'^ 

*  "The  report  of  an  English  spy  at  Madrid  to  Lord  Burleigh 
certifies  that  about  this  period  a  young  man  calling  himself 
Arthiir  Dudley  was  then  resident  at  the  court  of  Spain,  who 

252 


A  Tale   of   the  Lost  Colony 

He  paused,  as  an  actor  pauses  to  heighten  the  effect 
of  a  sensation.  But  as  Vytal  only  met  his  glance 
with  a  cold  stare,  he  resumed,  nonchalantly:  *'We 
have  tried  once  to  invade  England,  on  whose  throne 
Philip  would  have  placed  me,  but  we  failed.  Now 
that  was  but  a  first  attempt.  Mark  you,  the  end  is 
not  yet.''  He  stood  erect,  as  if  striving  to  match  his 
height  with  VytaFs.  ''Perhaps  you  wonder  why 
I  have  come  twice  to  America?  On  this  point  I  will 
satisfy  your  curiosity.  It  is  because  we  would  lop 
off  this  much  of  my  beloved  mother's  dominions  and 
amputate  a  limb,  as  it  were,  while  waiting  to  seize 
the  trunk.  If  all  else  fail,  I  shall  at  least  be  the 
King  of  Virginia  and  St.  Augustine. '' 

He  said  no  more,  but  waited  interestedly  now  as 
a  spectator  of  the  play  instead  of  an  actor. 

Inexorably  Vj^tal  stepped  forward,  bending  his 
well-tempered  weapon  in  both  hands  like  a  bow. 

Frazer  smiled.  ''Ah,  do  you  seek  to  break  it  and 
vow  allegiance?"  he  inquired,  with  mock  gracious- 
ness,  "or  merely  to  prove  it  of  Toledo  make?  In  the 
former  case,  I  create  you  Knight  of  the  Bodkin;  in 
the  latter,  believe  me,  I  know  well  'tis  a  supple  blade." 

"Unluckily,"  returned  Vytal,  wholly  disregarding 
his  banter,  "  it  is  my  duty  to  cross  swords  with  you. 
Whether  or  not  you  have  been  so  bold  as  purposely 
to  bring  it  on  yourself  by  this  outrage,  I  cannot  tell. 
Yet  this  one  thing  I  know:  a  man's  duty  and  rev- 
erence are  ever  to  his  liege  sovereign.  In  the  name 
of  my  queen's  honor  I  am  compelled  to  fight.  Save 
for  your  scandalous  insult  I  would  have  taken  you 
alive,  but  now — to  it!" 

had  given  it  out  that  he  was  the  offspring  of  Queen  EHzabeth 
by  the  Earl  of  Leicester." — Strickland's  Lives  of  the  Queens  of 
England.  See  also  Ellis's  Letters,  Second  Series ;  and  Doctor 
Lingard's  translation  from  the  Records  of  Simanca, 

253 


John  Vytal 


it  I 


Stay!  First,  I  pray  you,  bid  the  poet  and  Man- 
teo  make  no  further  attack  on  Towaye,  and  ask  them 
both  to  remain  here.  Only  on  this  condition  will  1 
throw  aside  the  horn,  trusting  to  your  honor  for  fair 
play/' 

Vytal  inclined  his  head.  '"Manteo,  stand  by; 
and  you,  Kyt,  control  Towaye  with  your  aim,  but 
shoot  not  unless  he  move.'' 

At  this  Frazer  appeared  satisfied.  "Towaye, 
wait.  I  will  end  the  discussion  with  their  leader 
first;  later  we  can  argue  with  the  others."  So 
saying,  he  let  fall  his  horn  to  the  sand  beside 
him. 

"\  would  to  God,"  muttered  Marlowe,  "I  had 
killed  him  that  day  in  the  '  Tabard.' " 

Frazer  caught  the  tenor  of  the  wish  and  smiled 
again.  "Sir  Poet,"  he  said,  rolling  back  the  sleeves 
of  his  doublet,  "  then  we  discussed  the  baiting  of  a 
bear,  and  I  waxed  eloquent  for  the  pastime.  Again 
we  are  in  the  same  position,  you  disapproving  from 
mercy  to  the  animal,  I  enthusiastic  of  very  love  for 
the  sport.  But  now  'tis  not  a  bear  I  would  fain  see 
pestered;  'tis'  better  still — a  wolf!"  Whereupon,  as 
his  arms  were  now  bared  to  the  elbows,  he  raised  his 
rapier  and  saluted  the  soldier  with  an  easy  grace. 
"I  wait!" 

The  weapons  crossed,  slithered,  separated,  and 
crossed  again.  Then  Vytal  lunged,  and  Frazer, 
falling  back  apace,  parried  successfully,  even  as  the 
point  touched  his  doublet.  Next,  in  feigned  alarm, 
his  arm,  wavering,  left  the  heart  exposed,  and  Vy- 
tal thrust  again.  But  the  stroke  was  answered  with 
lightning  speed,  and,  save  for  an  even  swifter  parry, 
the  response  would  have  been  final. 

Now,  with  extreme  caution,  weapons  apart,  now 
with  seemingly  rash  bursts  of  daring,  the  two  fenced 

254 


A  Tale   of  the   Lost  Colony 

for  several  minutes,  the  advantage  appearing  to 
change  with  every  move. 

To  Marlowe,  even  more  than  to  the  principals,  the 
moment  was  desperate.  For,  being  forced  to  guard 
Towaye,  he  could  follow  the  contest  only  by  the  sound 
of  the  rapiers,  which,  in  rasping  voice,  told  him  that 
Frazer  had  mastered  the  art  of  fence  since  their  fight 
on  London  Bridge.  With  astonishment  and  appre- 
hension he  wondered  why  the  ring  and  slither  were 
so  long  continued,  for  his  straining  ears  could  not 
explain  that  which  a  single  glance,  had  he  dared  to 
risk  it,  would  have  made  evident. 

Behind  Frazer  the  water  shone  like  a  vast  burning- 
glass,  while  behind  Vytal  the  forest  was  a  soft  back- 
ground of  shade.  The  glare  almost  blinded  Vytal's 
eyes;  the  shadows  rested  Frazer's.  And  the  latter 
made  the  most  of  his  advantage.  With  quick  and 
varied  sidelong  springs  he  used  the  reflected  sun- 
light as  a  second  weapon,  more  baffling  than  the  first. 
Nevertheless,  with  brows  contracted  and  lids  lowered, 
Vytal  so  screened  his  eyes  when  Frazer,  with  steps 
aside,  brought  the  glare  into  play,  that  he  contrived 
to  gain  despite  the  disadvantage. 

Gradually  his  opponent  fell  back  toward  the  wa- 
ter's edge. 

The  weapons  played  faster  and  more  furiously 
than  before,  the  sound  of  Frazer 's  quick -drawn 
breath  mingling  itself  with  the  hoarse  whisper  of 
steel  as  the  irresistible  swordsman  impelled  him  back- 
ward inch  by  inch.  Strangely  enough,  he  had  never 
once  made  a  move  toward  the  horn,  and  now  it  lay 
well  beyond  his  reach. 

Suddenly  at  the  water's  brink  Vytal's  rapier,  dart- 
ing forward,  zigzagged  about  its  foe  like  a  flash  of 
forked  lightning,  and  Frazer  fell  to  one  knee.  At 
this  Vytal  would  have  thrust  it  home,  but  his  great 

255 


John  Vytal 

height  compelled  him  to  lean  so  far  forward  that  the 
water,  in  which  he  now  stood  ankle -deep,  cast  up 
its  glare  directly  into  his  eyes,  and  for  a  second  he 
was  subject  to  a  retinal  blur,  while  splotches  of  silver 
obscured  his  vision.  At  this  instant  Frazer,  spring- 
ing to  an  erect  position,  lunged  viciously,  but  the 
thrust  was  parried  with  blind  instinct,  and  Vytal's 
half-closed  eyes  saw  his  adversary  fall  back,  steadily 
back,  before  him  into  the  sea. 

Now  they  stood  up  to  their  knees  in  water,  Vytal 
gaining,  until  even  their  scabbards  were  submerged. 
Again  and  again  the  soldier  had  striven  to  turn  his 
foe,  but  never  had  he  met  so  dexterous  and  strategic 
an  opposition.  Yet  there  seemed  to  be  no  doubt  as  to 
the  issue,  for  at  the  last  Frazer,  merely  endeavoring 
to  control  the  other's  point,  was  content  to  recede 
on  the  defensive.  And  soon  Vytal  foresaw  that  his 
opponent,  who,  besides  being  many  inches  shorter 
than  himself,  was  also  farther  from  the  shore,  would 
in  a  moment  be  struggling  in  deep  water,  since 
even  now  he  was  forced  to  keep  his  sword-arm  at 
a  high  level  for  free  play.  Having  no  desire  thus 
to  drown  him,  Vytal  purposely  fell  back  a  pace,  his 
innate  sense  of  justice  forbidding  him  to  avail  him- 
self of  the  advantage,  though  he  had  well  earned 
it,  and  even  though  his  enemy,  in  the  same  po- 
sition, would  have  profited  thereby  with  no  com- 
punction. 

Yet  even  as  he  fell  back  a  mocking  laugh  escaped 
from  Frazer's  lips,  and  Vytal,  no  longer  generously 
hesitating,  thrust  with  fatal  intent.  Quicker  still, 
however,  Frazer  dived  beneath  the  water,  and  the 
soldier  now  looked  out  across  a  circle  of  shining 
ripples  that  widened  until  they  passed  him  and 
reached  the  shore.  And  Frazer,  with  full -inflated 
lungs,  still  remained  below  the  surface. 

256 


A  Tale    of  the    Lost  Colony 

Impassively  Vytal  turned,  and,  regaining  the 
shore,  amazed  Marlowe  by  blowing  on  the  horn. 

"  God's  pity !  why  do  you  do  that?''  asked  the  poet, 
still  holding  his  pistol  on  a  level  with  Towaye's  heart. 
''It  means  our  massacre.'' 

''Nay,"  said  the  soldier,  "he  would  have  tried  to 
regain  it  were  there  allies  near.  His  threat  was  hol- 
low. I  seek  to  arouse  the  town."  He  looked  at  the 
two  men  before  him  as  they  stood  facing  each  other, 
the  poet  threatening,  the  Indian  sullen,  and  added, 
mercilessly,  "Fire!" 

"To  kill?" 

Vytal  turned  to  Manteo.  "He  is  your  enemy, 
my  brother." 

"To  kill," said  the  chief,  "for  he  is  a  traitor  to  the 
men  of  his  blood." 

The  poet  shuddered.  "  Do  you,  then,  avenge  them," 
he  said,  handing  the  pistol  to  Manteo,  and  the  lord 
of  Roanoke  inclined  his  head.  A  pistol-shot  rang 
out.     Towaye  fell  with  a  groan,  mortally  wounded. 

A  face  rose  to  the  surface  of  the  water,  invisible 
behind  a  rock,  and  a  pair  of  lips  opened  w^ide  to  ad- 
mit air,  then  closed  tightly  and  disappeared. 

"Now,  make  haste,"  said  Vytal  to  Manteo.  "Get 
you  over  yonder  ridge  and  intercept  our  enemy  if 
he  lands  there."  Without  a  word  the  Indian  sprang 
to  the  sand-bank,  and,  clearing  it,  was  lost  to  view. 
Vytal  turned  to  Marlowe.  "Stay  here.  He  is  a 
fox,  and  may  retrace  his  course,  supposing  that  w^e 
have  gone  to  the  right  and  left  in  search  of  him.  I 
guard  the  northern  shore,"  and  instantly  Vytal  dis- 
appeared beyond  the  second  bulwark. 

"He  is  not  a  fox,  but  a  fish,"  muttered  Marlowe, 
reloading  his  pistol.     Almost  before  the  words  were 
spoken  a  head  appeared  above   the  surface  of  the 
water.     The  poet  raised  his  weapon  and  took  aim. 
R  257 


John  Vytal 

"'Oh/'  exclaimed  Frazer,  unconcernedly,  as  he 
waded  inshore, ''  is  this  thy  boasted  poetry,  to  shoot 
me  like  a  dog?'' 

Marlowe  impatiently  drew  a  rapier,  while  Frazer 
came  to  the  beach. 

''Once  more,''  he  said,  ''the  crown  prince  must 
fight  with  a  commoner."  Then,  feigning  to  thrust 
at  Christopher,  he  suddenly  swerved,  and  with  his 
left  hand  grasped  the  horn  which  he  and  Vytal  in 
turn  had  let  fall  near  the  water. 

"This  was  the  signal,"  he  declared,  still  menacing 
the  poet  with  a  flashing  blade.  "  Not  one  blast,  but 
three!"     And  he  blew  thrice  in  rapid  succession. 

Instinctively  Marlowe  turned  toward  the  forest, 
expecting  to  see  a  horde  of  savages  rush  therefrom 
upon  him.  But  in  that  instant  of  error  only  a  single 
figure  crossed  his  vision,  fleet  as  Mercury,  and,  to  his 
deep  mortification,  even  before  he  could  change  ra- 
pier for  pistol,  he  saw  Frazer  vanish  in  the  woods. 

In  a  fit  of  wild  exasperation  the  poet  started  head- 
long in  pursuit ;  but  he  had  scarcely  crossed  the  beach 
when  Vytal  and  Manteo,  recalled  by  the  horn's  flour- 
ish, reappeared  from  beyond  the  ridges. 

"There,  in  there!"  cried  Christopher,  and  would 
have  rushed  forward  again  had  not  the  soldier  re- 
strained him. 

"  How  long  is  it  since  he  escaped  you?" 

"One  minute.  You  heard  the  alarum.  He  fled 
immediately." 

Vytal  turned  to  Manteo.     "  Will  you  follow  him? 

"Yes." 

"  Hasten,  then,"  and  the  chief,  with  noiseless  tread 
and  eyes  keenly  perceptive  of  every  telltale  twig  and 
leaf,  made  his  way  into  the  forest.  "  He  understands 
the  stalking  of  game,"  observed  Vytal.     "It  is  best 


}> 


so. 


258 


A  Tale   of  the    Lost  Colony 

Marlowe's  face  clouded  dismally.  ''Ay,  'tis  best 
so,  and  'tis  best  that  1  sail  away.  Twice  this  fellow 
hath  outwitted  me  with  the  simplest  trickery.  1  am 
not  worthy  to  remain." 

''Ah/'  said  Vytal,  with  an  even  deeper  note  of 
self-conviction, ''  these  things  belong  not  to  your  call- 
ing. We  do  not  require  carpentry  of  vintners,  nor 
a  crop  of  wheat  from  fighting-men.  But  to  mine 
they  do  belong,  and,  Christopher — "  the  voice  sound- 
ed harsh  and  unreal — ''I  have  now  failed  at  mine 
own  work — failed!" 

He  prodded  the  little  sand-hills  of  Frazer's  incon- 
sequent building  with  the  point  of  his  rapier. 
"  Failed!"  He  seemed  to  be  on  the  threshold  of  new 
knowledge.  A  word  hitherto  utterly  unknown  and 
unregarded  was  being  cut  deep  into  the  granite  of 
his  character. 

The  poet  watched  him,  and  saw  the  keen,  unfath- 
omable eyes  for  once  cast  down  in  self-reproach. 

''Failed  !"  The  soldier  straightened  himself  and 
looked  about  at  the  shore  and  water  as  at  a  new 
world. 

Now,  suddenly,  his  eyes,  flashing  the  old  fire  of 
their  indomitable  resolve,  met  Marlowe's.  "Failed, 
but  in  the  end  1  shall  succeed." 

A  short  sigh  of  relief  escaped  the  poet's  lips;  not 
that  he  had  doubted,  but  that  he  had  awaited,  seem- 
ingly an  age,  this  reassertion  of  power.  "Yes,"  he 
said,  "yours  was  not  really  failure.  Can  Fate  be 
thwarted?  Nay;  yet  for  a  time  little  men,  elated 
and  audacious  in  their  puny  grandeur,  may  break  its 
august  decrees  and  laugh  at  the  inevitable.  Vytal, 
read  yourself;  interpret  the  cryptograms  your  sword 
hath  hewn;  translate  your  nature  into  words,  and, 
even  though  you  withhold  the  meaning  from  us  all, 
you  will  have  attained  to  the  consummative  pinnacle 

259 


John  Vytal 

of  manhood/'  The  poet's  fervid  eyes^  gazing  at 
his  friend,  became  orators. 

For  a  moment  Vytal's  face  softened,  while  a  fleet- 
ing smile  crossed  it  sadly.  "1  must  return  now  to 
the  town.'' 

'"And  1,"  said  Kyt,  ''to  my  birthland.  You  have 
been  a  '  queen's  defender.'  This  much  of  the  gypsy's 
prophecy  has  been  fulfilled.  1  will  tell  her  Majesty, 
and,  in  gratitude,  1  doubt  not,  she  will  send  hither 
assistance  to  you  all.  Yet,  Vytal,  my  soul  is  con- 
sumed with  fear  for  you  and  Mistress  Dare." 

Vytal  shrugged  his  shoulders.  ''1  have  not  yet 
worthily  defended  her,  but  the  day  will  come." 

"Yes,"  returned  the  poet,  ''of  a  certainty  the  day 
will  come.  Ne'ertheless,  have  a  care,  1  pray  you, 
when  again  you  meet  this  Frazer.  His  strategy  is  un- 
surpassed, his  cunning  resourceful  and  never  spent. 
1  could  feel  happy  even  now^  in  leaving,  were  the  actor 
dead  and  his  incongruous  blue  eyes  closed,  his  lips 
uncurled.  Well,  1  tarry  no  longer.  The  moment 
hath  come  for  me  to  go.  1  pray  you  say  nothing  of 
my  departure.  Let  them  think  that  1  have  been  slain 
by  some  wild  beast,  or  if,  by  ill-luck,  they  see  the  sail, 
let  them  believe  1  have  deserted." 

Vytal  shook  his  head.  "That  1  will  not.  When 
you  are  gone  1  shall  tell  them  of  your  sacrifice. 
They  must  know  the  truth.  A  surreptitious  leaving 
and  elopement  shall  not  be  their  charge  against 
you." 

The  poet's  face  grew  troubled.  "But  they  will 
blame  you,"  he  objected ;  "  they  will  kill  you  for  your 
share  in  the  concealment  of  my  plan." 

"  Let  them  try, ' '  returned  Vytal.  "  1  care  not ;  now, 
farewell." 

"  Farewell. "  The  two  separated  abruptly,  and  Mar- 
lowe, with  a  light   step,  artificially  careless,  made 

260 


A  Tale   of  the    Lost  Colony 

his  way  to  the  headland  beyond  which  lay  the  Breton 
shallop  awaiting  him. 

In  the  evening,  under  cover  of  darkness,  a  canoe, 
propelled  by  one  man,  came  stealthily  to  the  southern 
shore  of  Croatan,  and  went  away  again  with  two 
occupants.  Later  these  two  boarded  a  vessel  that 
hovered  about  near  the  mainland.  The  ship,  the 
canoe,  the  people  were  shadows — all  wraiths  of  un- 
reality. But  suddenly,  after  the  vessel  had  crept 
away,  far  to  the  eastward,  and  the  land  was  seen  no 
more,  a  low,  weird  song  arose  at  the  first  moment  of 
light.  It  was  from  many  voices,  sailorly  and  strong, 
but  the  tongue  and  the  tune  were  strange  save  to  the 
stalwart  singers. 

"Ann  eoriou  zo  savet ;  setu  ar  flik-ha-flok ! 
Krenvat  ra  ann  avel ;  mont  a  reomp  kaer  a-rog ; 
Stegna  reeur  ar  gweliou ;  ann  douar  a  bella ; 
Va  c'halon,  siouaz  d'in;  ne  ra  med  huanada  .  .  ." 

("The  anchors  are  up;  hark  to  the  flik-flokf 
The  wind  freshens ;  we  speed  on  our  course ; 
The  sails  blow  full ;  the  land  recedes  ; 
Alas  1  my  heart  voices  only  sighs  .  .  .  ") 

Handsome,  dark  faces,  prescient  with  some  mys- 
tery of  the  sea,  were  revealed  slowly  as  the  gray  light 
spread.  Umbrous  eyes,  that  seemed  sleeping,  though 
unclosed,  and  whose  looks  were  dreams  begetting 
dreams,  gazed  out  to  the  eastern  line.  For  the  sun 
had  not  yet  risen. 

"  Ann  eoriou  zo  savet ;  setu  ar  flik-ha-flok ! 
Krenvat  ra  ann  avel ;  mont  a  reomp  kaer  a-rog  .  .  . 

Then,  as  the  sound  of  the  men's  deep  voices  died 
away  across  the  sea,  a  woman's  voice  rose  higher, 
in  limpid,  silvery  tones,  yet  with  words  that  seemed 
incongruous  in  the  still  gray  hour  of  dawn.  For 
the  sun  had  not  yet  risen. 

261 


John  Vytal:  A  Tale  of  the  Lost  Colony 

"  Let  the  world  slide,  let  the  world  go ; 
A  fig  for  care  and  a  fig  for  woe ; 
If  I  can't  pay,  whj^,  I  can  owe, 
And  death  makes  equal  the  high  and  low — 
Be  merry,  friends!" 

But  the  truest  singer  of  them  all  lay  in  the  bow, 
shrouded  by  the  daj^break  mist,  and  silent  in  the 
depths  of  slumber. 

For  the  sun  had  not  yet  risen. 

Thus  Christopher  Marlowe — an  impression,  a  song, 
a  vivid  but  fleeting  picture  —  passed  from  the  life  of 
a  new-world  people. 


CHAPTER  XXIll 

"But  who  comes  here? 
How  now  ?'' 
— Marlowe,  in  The  Jew  of  Malta. 

"Master  Christopher  Marlowe  hath  dis- 
appeared. "  The  assertion  came  from  Ananias  Dare, 
who  at  noon  joined  a  number  of  his  fellows  idling  in 
the  town. 

''Ay/'  said  a  gossip  following  him,  "and  Gyll 
Croyden  is  nowhere  to  be  found/' 

"Marlowe  gone!''  exclaimed  one. 

"Gyll  Croyden  missing!"  ejaculated  another. 

"The  poet  and  his  love/'  insinuated  the  gossip. 
The  women  exchanged  glances ;  the  men  were  grave 
with  apprehension. 

"  By  St.  George,  'tis  a  strange  hap/'  said  a  soldier. 

"Some  ill  hath  overtaken  them  as  retribution/' 
declared  the  Oxford  preacher. 

"Let  us  institute  a  search/'  suggested  several 
simultaneously.     "We  may  find  them." 

"Nay,  they've  not  been  seen  for  many  hours." 

"But  we  should  try." 

"Well,  then,  'twill  keep  us  fro'  twiddling  our 
thumbs.  Ho,  Prat!  Give  us  aid.  'Ods  precious! 
AVhere's  the  merry-andrew  gone?  Was  she  not  his 
light  o'  love  as  well?" 

"Yes,"  laughed  the  gossip,  "but  saw  you  not 
Prat's  look  when  1  told  you  she  had  disappeared? 
He  and  his  bear  have  gone  a-roaming  in  the  forest. 
Poor  clown!" 

263 


John  Vytal 

Many  shook  their  heads  with  indulgent  pity. 
"Come,  let  us  go  in  search/' 

But  Ananias  Dare,  who,  being  in  the  turmoil  of  a 
struggle  against  himself,  had  said  little,  now  stayed 
them.  ''They  are  not  in  jeopardy.  We  ourselves 
have  more  to  fear.  Last  night  1  saw  a  ship  bear 
away  to  the  east.  My  masters,  1  doubt  not  they 
have  clandestinely  deserted  us.     They  have  gone.'' 

''Deserted  us!"  The  exclamation  was  not  from 
one  only,  but  all,  and  an  angry  muttering  ran 
through  the  company. 

"  These  poets  have  no  courage." 

"She  was  afraid  to  stay.  The  parson  bade  her 
marry." 

"We  are  well  rid  of  them." 

"Ay,  but  'tis  an  outrage." 

Then  a  new-comer  spoke  in  sharp,  condemnatory 
tones,  not  against  the  subjects  of  their  talk,  but 
against  their  own  contumely.  It  was  Vytal.  "  Yes, 
Christopher  Marlowe  hath  gone,"  he  said,  "for 
your  sake,  not  his  own.  A  Breton  shallop  came 
from  the  north,  and  he,  for  a  cause  beyond  your  ken, 
hath  taken  passage  therein.  In  England,  he  will 
gain  audience  with  the  queen,  and  persuade  her 
Majesty  to  send  us  aid.  The  thing  is  done.  Now 
make  the  best  of  it." 

Ananias  started  forward.  "And  you  knew  he 
was  going?" 

"1  knew  it." 

"Yet  you  dared  to  withhold  the  knowledge  from 
us?" 

Vytal's  lip  curled.  "  'Twas  no  great  daring,  but 
only  kindness.  1  held  you  to  your  trust,  and  so  shall 
till  death."  They  started  toward  him,  wrathful, 
riotous.  "Oh,  you  seek  to  end  the  matter  now?  1 
am  at  your  service.     Here,  Hugh,  to  my  side!"     The 

264 


A  Tale    of  the    Lost   Colony 

giant,  hurling  aside  all  who  sought  to  oppose  him, 
obeyed,  with  broadsword  drawn. 

Ananias  fell  back  from  the  front  ranks  swearing, 
his  retreat  seeming  to  affect  the  others  with  a  like 
discretion. 

"  1  have  fought  for  you  and  by  3^our  side,''  said  Vy- 
tal,  a  new  note  of  grief  in  his  voice;  " yet  with  death 
you  would  repay  me.'' 

"Ay,  he  fought  for  us  well,"  cried  Rouse,  ferA^ent- 
ly,  and  the  words  were  echoed  in  embarrassed  whis- 
pers through  the  crowd. 

Slowly  they  turned  and  left  him. 

For  several  hours  a  stout  vagabond  wandered 
aimlessly  through  the  woods,  now  and  then  address- 
ing an  unresponsive  companion.  "She's  gone;  my 
laughing  Gyll  is  gone !  Come,  your  Majesty,  get 
you  into  the  barge;  we'll  go  to  Roanoke."  The 
heavy  craft,  bulky  and  awkward  as  its  occupants, 
moved  on  and  on  through  the  night  until  at  last  it 
touched  the  southern  shore  of  Roanoke.  "Behold 
that  glade,  your  Majesty;  it  is  the  very  spot  where 
you  danced  with  her  while  1  piped,  and  the  Indians 
looked  on  with  wonder.  But,  body  o'  me  !  those 
days  are  gone.  King  Lud,  thou'lt  dance  no  more." 
And  the  vagabond  clasped  arms  with  his  comrade. 
"Those  days  are  dead;  let  'em  be  forgot." 

Thus  together,  hither  and  thither,  round  and 
about,  the  strange  pair  wandered,  until  they  came 
to  a  ravine  margined  with  a  natural  arbor  of  grapes 
whose  tangled  vines  clambered  to  the  trees  and  lay 
like  sleeping  snakes  in  a  near-by  opening.  To  these 
the  bear  paid  no  attention,  but  sniffed  about  the 
trunks  of  trees  for  fruit  of  another  kind.  One  of  the 
arbors,  however,  interested  the  soldier. 

"It  was  here,"  he  said,  "that  her  wit  right  bravely 

265 


John    Vytal 

saved  her  from  Towaye,  and  she  cHpped  the  locks 
o'  her  sunny  head  a -weeping.  Lack -a -day,  those 
times  are  mine  no  longer.  Let  'em  be  bygones,  Roger 
Prat,  and  think  no  more  on  't,  1  do  beseech  you.'' 

Suddenly  he  paused  and  leaned  forward.  A  long 
rope  shone  lustrous  amid  the  tendrils  of  the  arbor. 
''Body  o'  me!  'tis  the  very  strand!"  and,  extricating 
it,  he  looked  about  to  make  sure  that  even  the  bear 
had  not  discovered  his  secret.  Then,  as  King  Lud 
disappeared  in  the  woods,  he  sat  down  for  a  moment 
on  the  ground,  and,  gently  laying  the  shining  curls 
across  his  knees,  stroked  them  again  and  again, 
murmuring  inaudibly  as  they  moved  restlessly  in 
the  breeze  or  caught  in  his  clumsy  fingers,  while, 
with  a  bewildered  expression,  he  rolled  his  eyes. 
At  last  he  thrust  the  golden  braid  into  the  bosom 
of  his  doublet,  and  for  once  the  new  mournful- 
ness  of  his  round,  red  face  was  not  absurd.  But 
presently  he  frowned  and  rose  jerkily  to  his  feet. 

Yes,  that  pygmy  Rouse  is  right,"  he  muttered. 

Ye're  daft,  Roger  Prat — daft,  indeed." 
Thereafter,  calling  to  the  bear,  he  spent  the  day 
in  returning  laboriously  to  Croatan,  on  whose  shore 
the  animal,  sufficiently  tamed  to  rove  at  large,  left 
him,  and,  still  with  an  unsatisfied  appetite,  loped  off 
into  the  forest. 

In  the  evening  Eleanor  Dare  sat  in  her  dining- 
room  with  Vytal.     ''Then  he  has  actually  gone?" 

"  Yes,  on  a  Breton  shallop.  He  waited  for  months, 
hoping  that  the  chance  would  come  at  last." 

"But  he  never  told  me,"  said  Eleanor. 

"Nay,  for  perhaps  the  power  was  not  in  him." 

She  looked  deeply  thoughtful.  "Oh,  1  compre- 
hend it  all  now,  but  then  1  considered  the  farewell 
one  of  his  vagaries.     1  thought  he  was  bidding  good- 

266 


A  Tale   of  the    Lost   Colony 

bye  to  me  only — you  understand — yet  now  his  words 
come  back  to  me  with  double  force.  Captain  Vytal, 
we  have  lost  a  friend/' 

"Yes,"  said  the  soldier,  ''in  truth  a  friend.  It  is 
my  duty,  however,  to  tell  you  that  we  have  regained 
an  enemy/'  with  which  he  told  her  briefly  of  their 
meeting  with  Frazer,  of  the  latter's  pretensions, 
trickery,  and  escape.  At  mention  of  the  duel's  climax, 
he  coldly  chid  himself  without  forbearance  as  he 
would  have  censured  any  other  in  his  place.  ''  There 
will  be  a  second  attempted  invasion,"  he  said,  ''to 
repel  which  we  must  harbor  all  our  strength.  In 
some  unaccountable  way  this  fellow  hath  escaped 
IManteo,  who  but  just  now  has  returned,  after  a  futile 
search.  Moreover,  Mistress  Dare — "  But  he  paused 
abruptly.  He  would  say  no  more.  From  her  and 
from  all  he  must  withhold  for  always  the  conviction 
that,  by  some  terrible  mischance,  John  White  had 
come  to  Roanoke  again  and  gone. 

For  a  moment  her  eyes  questioned  him,  but,  find- 
ing no  answer,  she  forbore  to  voice  the  query,  and 
quickly  dismissed  the  subject  as  he  willed.  Her 
eyes  flashed.  "We  must,  at  all  cost,  defeat  them, 
and  assert  our  rights  so  strongly  as  to  preclude  the 
possibility'^  of  repeated  threats." 

"We  shall." 

"Oh,  captain,  1  pray  you  give  me  work  to  do  in 
our  defence.  Idleness  palls  upon  me  in  times  like 
these.  Give  me  opportunit}^  if  needs  be,  to  suffer 
for  the  common  good." 

He  looked  deep  into  her  e3^es.  "  You  are  one  of  the 
few,"  he  said,  slowl3^,  "  who  are  worthy  to  suffer,  and, 
therefore,  'tis  for  you  1  fear." 

To  this  she  would  have  replied  in  all  the  bravery 
of  her  hopeful  womanhood,  but  suddenly  her  ex- 
pression changed.     "W^ho  is  that?"  she  whispered, 

267 


John   Vytal 

gazing  at  a  near-by  window ;  and  then,  as  a  head 
was  tlirust  in  at  a  casement,  she  laughed  with  evi- 
dent rehef,  for  the  long  nose  of  King  Lud,  who  stood 
without  on  his  hind-legs,  was  snif&ng  the  air  of  the 
dining-hall. 

In  another  second  the  animal  had  dropped  to  his 
natural  posture,  and  was  for  shambling  off  to  Roger's 
cabin,  but  VytaFs  quick  eyes  had  caught  sight  of  a 
whitish  object  suspended  from  the  animal's  neck. 
Uttering  a  short  call  by  which  Prat  was  wont  to  sum- 
mon his  pet,  Vytal  opened  the  door,  and  saw  King 
Lud  irresolutely  awaiting  him.  With  a  warning 
gesture  to  Eleanor,  bidding  her  remain  in  the  house, 
he  went  out  and  stroked  the  bear's  head;  then,  bend- 
ing down,  untied  a  thong  of  deerskin  and  took  from 
under  the  shaggy  throat  the  object  he  had  noticed. 
Returning,  he  held  it  in  the  light,  while  his  brow,  con- 
tracting, darkened.  "It  is  the  very  horn,"  he  said, 
''of  Frazer's  using.  But  there  is  more,  too/'  and  he 
drew  a  crumpled  scrap  of  paper  from  the  muzzle  of 
the  instrument.  Spreading  it  out  on  the  table,  he 
read  the  first  words,  whose  letters,  all  small  capitals, 
were  formed  by  innumerable  perforated  dots  pricked 
through  the  paper  evidently  by  the  sharp  point  of  a 
weapon. 

"To  Mistress  Dare—" 

Vytal  looked  up  at  Eleanor.  "  It  is  probably  unfit 
for  your  perusal;  therefore,  with  your  permission, 
1  will  read  it  first  myself,"  and,  as  she  inclined  her 
head,  he  did  so. 

"  To  IVIlSTRESS  Dare, — This  promise  writ  with  my  poniard  : 
I  will  return  anon,  my  love.  The  king  lives,  waiting  for  his 
royal  consort.  It  may  be  a  day,  it  may  be  a  year,  or  several 
j'^ears,  but  in  the  end,  I  swear  to  you,  that  I  will  come  and  claim 
mine  own.     Yet,  if  at  any  time  our  friend.  Captain  Vytal,  seeks 

268 


A  Tale   of  the    Lost  Colony 

to  capitulate  and  surrender  the  colony  to  my  liege  sovereignty, 
let  him  blow  thrice  upon  this  horn — which  he  will  remember  is 
an  effective  signal  in  time  of  need.  Written,  or  rather  perforated, 
in  some  haste,  but  no  flurry,  very  near  you  at  Croatan,  by  the 
Crown  Prince  of  England,  yet  your  humble  slave, 

"Arthur  Dudley." 

Vytal  tore  the  paper  into  shreds.  "Once  more/' 
he  said,  ''this  mountebank  hath  grossly  insulted 
my  queen.''     Eleanor's  cheeks  flushed  vividly. 

By  a  supreme  effort  he  withdrew  his  eyes  from  the 
crimson  token  of  her  love  and  stared  fixedly  through 
the  casement  into  the  outer  darkness  of  night.  "  Our 
queen/'  he  added,  in  a  low,  metallic  voice,  ''Eliza- 
beth/' 


Bool?  im 


CHAPTER  1 

"The  restless  course 
That  Time  doth  run  with  calm  and  silent  foot." 

— Marlowe,  in  Doctor  Faustus. 

On  the  shore  of  Roanoke,  under  the  eastern  cliff, 
a  young  Indian  stood  alone,  listening.  Tall  and 
straight  as  a  spear,  his  dark  form,  undraped,  save 
at  the  loins,  suggested,  in  the  moment  of  immobility. 
a  bronze  statue,  fresh  from  a  master-hand.  The  at- 
tentive poise,  the  keen,  expectant  eyes,  the  head 
thrown  back,  implied  in  every  muscle  and  outline  a 
mystery,  for  the  whisper  of  whose  voice  he  waited 
breathless.  But,  as  the  desired  sound  was  not  forth- 
coming, the  spell  broke  suddenly.  He  moved,  and  the 
all-unconscious  pose  was  lost  in  activity.  With  light 
steps  that  seemed  to  fall  upon  an  ethereal  roadway, 
even  less  solid  than  the  shifting  sands,  he  went  to  a 
copse  of  trees  beneath  the  cliff  and,  bending  forward, 
scanned  the  long  vines  and  grasses  that  ran  Vv' ild  be- 
neath his  feet.  Through  the  canopy  of  green  above 
him  a  host  of  sun-rays  made  their  way,  and,  separating 
into  a  myriad  golden  motes,  played  in  and  out  amid 
the  maze  of  cedar-roots  that  met  his  eyes.  A  breeze, 
laden  with  the  fragrance  of  numberless  shrubs  and 
vagrant  flowers,  stirred  the  straight  black  strands 
of  his  hair,  to  which  the  sun  lent  a  lustrous  gloss  like 
the  sheen  of  a  raven's  wing.  Was  it  only  the  air, 
fresh  and  warm  with  midsummer  balm,  that  filled 
him  to  the  flood  with  ardent  life?     Was  it  merely  the 

s  273 


John   Vytal 

sun  that  kindled  those  hghts  in  his  eyes,  and  only 
the  free  flux  of  animal  spirits  that  possessed  him? 
The  eagerness  of  his  quest  gave  answer,  and  even  the 
song-birds,  now  in  silence  watching  him  from  high 
above,  seemed  to  divine  that  here  was  no  intruding 
fowler,  no  mere  hawk  more  powerful  than  them- 
selves. 

Again  he  paused,  listening,  and  now  the  intent 
look  changed  to  an  expression  of  apprehension  and 
dismay.  The  statue  of  Hope  was  transformed  to  a 
figure  of  Alarm;  the  pleasure  of  seeking  to  the  dis- 
quietude of  a  search  in  vain. 

Suddenly,  however,  from  the  branch  of  an  oak- 
tree,  in  the  heart  of  w^hose  shadow  he  stood,  a  voice 
came  down  to  him,  blithe,  merry,  triumphant,  and 
the  voice,  for  all  its  melody,  was  not  a  bird's.  "  Dark 
Eye,  the  White  Doe  is  here/'  He  looked  up,  smiling, 
and  somew^hat  mortified,  but  not  long,  for  in  a  min- 
ute the  maid,  who  had  outwitted  him  in  their  game 
of  hide-and-seek,  stood  on  the  ground,  her  laughing 
eyes  and  w^ords  bantering  him  without  mercy.  ''  Oh, 
what  availeth  the  speed  and  craft  of  Dark  Eye  when 
the  White  Doe  hides?" 

''Virginia,''  he  said,  pronouncing  the  name  with 
difficulty,  "  thou  art  no  white  doe,  but  a  spirit  of  the 
w^oods.'' 

As  a  description  of  her  appearance  his  observation 
was  not  amiss.  The  little  Virginia  Dare,  a  child 
no  longer,  seemed  rather  a  spirit  than  a  maid.  Yet 
in  the  gentle  curves  of  her  form  and  the  expressive 
depth  of  her  hazel  eyes  there  was  already  a  promise  of 
maturity.  They  w^ere  a  pair  of  rovers,  these  two, 
without  guile,  without  one  marring  trace  of  worldly 
comprehension,  without  that  indefinable,  but  ever- 
apparent,  disingenuousness  of  face  and  voice  that 
comes  when  the  fruit  of  knowledge  has  been  tasted ; 

274 


A  Tale   of  the    Lost   Colony 

they  were  deer,  revelling  in  their  forest  freedom,  and 
sea-gulls,  loving  the  water.  Sylvanites,  barbarians, 
brother  and  sister,  going  and  coming  as  they  willed, 
they  were  always  together,  and,  as  yet,  in  no  way 
conscious  of  themselves. 

And  the  guardian  angel  was  Eleanor.  To  her 
the  freedom  of  their  companionship  was  a  source  of 
constant  joy.  Had  she  not  done  well  to  leave  their 
Eden  unbounded  by  convention?  Could  she  not 
thus  in  a  measure  regain  what  she  herself  had  lost, 
and  allow  Virginia  the  happiness  which  had  been 
withheld  from  her?  ''Yes,''  she  answered,  in  one 
of  her  reveries,  ''it  is  well.''  And  from  the  day  of 
that  first  decision,  Virginia,  always  clad  in  white 
draperies,  loose  and  clinging,  went  barefoot,  hatless, 
and  unrestrained.  The  years  of  restriction  were  yet 
in  the  future. 

Indeed,  as  the  two  now  stood  together  on  the  shore 
— primordial  beings,  all  unblemished  by  a  past — 
that  future,  though  approaching,  seemed  far  away. 

"Come,"  said  Virginia,  after  she  had  taunted  him 
sufficient!}^  to  please  her  whim,  "  you  so  nearly  found 
me  that  1  will  grant  reward  for  the  tedious  quest." 

She  went  to  the  base  of  the  cliff,  while  he,  en- 
chanted by  her  every  motion,  and  striving  to  guess 
the  nature  of  the  guerdon,  followed  her  in  silent  won- 
der. Near  the  cliff  she  paused  and  took  a  shell,  pink, 
shallow,  and  translucent,  from  an  old  wampum- 
pouch  that,  in  their  childhood,  he  had  given  her. 
Next,  she  plucked  from  a  vine  that  rambled  down  the 
cliff -side  a  cluster  of  grapes,  green  as  their  own 
leaves,  and  almost  bursting.  "There,"  she  said, 
casting  them  on  a  strip  of  mossy  ground;  "now 
wait,"  with  which  she  trod  upon  the  cluster  with  her 
bare  feet;  then,  as  their  luscious  juice  ran  freely, 
held  them  aloft,  and  the  shell  beneath,  so  that  into 

275 


John  Vytal 

it  the  sparkling  drops  fell  one  by  one  until  they  over- 
flowed the  brim. 

And  now,  after  touching  the  nepenthe  to  her  lips, 
she  held  out  the  delicate  chalice  to  him  and  bade  him 
drink. 

As  though  participating  in  some  magic  that  would 
presently  enchant  them  both,  he  tasted,  and  would 
have  emptied  the  shell  delightedly,  but  on  a  sudden 
he  started  and,  letting  fall  the  fairy  cup,  pointed  to 
the  sea.  With  a  cry  of  astonishment,  Virginia  and 
her  comrade  ran  to  a  winding  path  which  led  to  a 
higher  vantage-point,  and  in  a  moment  they  stood 
upon  a  headland,  side  by  side,  he  transfixed,  she 
trembling  with  excitement. 

"  'Tis  a  ship,''  she  said,  breathlessly.  ''1  can  just 
remember  the  white  wings.  In  one  of  these  ships 
my  grandfather  sailed  away,  and  they  say  that  1 
saw  him  go.  In  another  went  Master  Kyt,  but  1 
saw  not  the  wings  that  bore  him  from  us.  1  won- 
der if  Master  Kyt  is  returning?  How  many  years 
have  passed  since  he  departed?''  She  held  up  her 
hand  and  counted  them  on  her  tapering  fingers. 
"'Tis  five—" 

But  for  once  the  Indian  was  not  heeding  her. 
''Look,"  he  said,  ''there  is  not  one  ship  only." 

Turning  again  to  face  the  sea,  she  saw  two  dis- 
tinct white  clouds,  one  in  the  middle  distance,  one 
just  surmounting  the  horizon. 

"Come,"  suggested  Virginia,  "let  us  give  the  sig- 
nal to  our  people  who  fish  in  the  sound. "  So  saying, 
she  led  him  along  the  palisade  until  they  reached  Vy- 
tal's  deserted  hut,  near  which  the  old  culverin  still 
remained  on  guard  and  ready-primed.  "  This  is  the 
way,"  she  commanded — "  Captain  Vytal  showed  me," 
and,  when  he  had  obeyed  her  instructions,  a  deafen- 
ing roar  went  seaward  from  the  land.     "Oh,  'tis  a 

276 


A  Tale   of  the   Lost   Colony 

terrible  sound/'  cried  Virginia,  covering  her  ears 
with  her  hands ;  "  but  that  is  enough,  and  now  let 
us  go  down  to  meet  the  townsmen  as  they  land  and 
tell  them  the  tidings  before  they  spy  those  wings 
themselves/'  As  she  started  away,  first  one,  then 
another  musket-shot,  each  fainter  than  the  last,  an- 
swered her  signal  from  the  south.  With  a  long  suc- 
cession of  alarums,  the  fishermen  repeated  the  first 
startling  report  back  and  back  even  to  Croatan. 

By  the  time  Virginia  and  the  Indian  reached  the 
northern  shore  several  barges  were  already  within 
sight. 

Vytal,  leading  in  a  canoe,  was  the  first  to  land. 

''  Two  ships  are  coming  V  cried  Virginia.  ''  Where 
is  my  mother?''  But  the  soldier  strode  past  her, 
making  no  reply,  his  eyes  ablaze  with  a  light  that 
long  ago  had  left  them  as  though  forever. 

Hugh  Rouse,  stepping  ashore  from  the  next  canoe, 
leaned  forward  from  his  great  height  and  seized  Vir- 
ginia by  the  arm  as  though  to  crush  her  with  a  single 
grasp.  ''What  were  those  words  of  thine?"  he  de- 
manded, wdth  unprecedented  ferocity.  "  Sj^eak  them 
again!" 

"  A  ship  is  coming,"  she  said,  half  fearfully ;  ''  nay, 
two."  But  the  last  words  were  unheard,  and  the 
giant,  turning  to  face  the  many  approaching  barges, 
roared  out,  ''A  sail!" 

"  A  sail !  A  sail !  A  sail ! "  was  the  wild  cry  which, 
repeated  again  and  again,  with  increasing  frenzy, 
went  ringing  from  the  foremost  craft  to  the  very  last. 
And,  before  long,  the  headland  on  the  eastern  coast 
was  overrun  by  mad  men  and  women  who,  with  tears 
streaming  from  their  eyes  and  kerchiefs  frantically 
waving,  gave  free  vent  to  their  overwhelming  joy. 
The  floodgates  of  emotion,  so  long  forced  to  with- 
stand a  mighty  strain,  had  been  shattered  in  an  in- 

277 


John  Vytal 

stant;  and  now  the  torrent,  tempestuous,  whirling, 
wild,  upleaping,  uncontrollable,  burst  from  their  very 
souls. 

Salvation  was  at  hand. 

All  believed  so,  and  the  belief  possessed  them  ut- 
terly, from  those  who  stood  at  the  edge  of  the  headland 
transfixedly  gazing  seaward,  to  those  who  shouted 
with  gladness,  and  the  others  who,  standing  yet  far- 
ther back,  bowed  their  heads  while  the  preacher  voiced 
their  thanksgiving  to  God.  In  the  foremost  line, 
silent  and  rigid,  stood  Vytal;  in  the  last,  Eleanor 
Dare,  with  her  daughter,  praying.  But  soon  Vir- 
ginia, slipping  her  hand  from  her  mother's,  rejoined 
the  Indian,  to  chide  him  laughingly  for  having  let 
fall  the  shell,  which  now  lay  in  fragments  far  below. 
For  to  these  two  alone  the  sails  meant  little,  seeming 
no  more  than  the  wings  to  which  they  had  likened 
them.  To  the  White  Doe  and  Dark  Eye  there  was 
no  far-distant  home  ever  calling  for  its  own.  Unlike 
their  English  neighbors,  these  two  were  no  foster- 
children,  but  inheritors  of  the  land  by  right  of  birth. 
This  was  their  country,  this  their  home.  Only  here 
could  their  happiness  mature,  and  seemingly  only 
apart  from  the  colony  could  they  live  as  their  hearts 
desired.  For  that  uncertain,  wavering  shyness  and 
sign  of  an  uncomprehended  fear,  which  long  ago 
Marlowe  had  noticed,  still  softened  Virginia's  eyes 
with  a  mystic  veil.  She  was  not  beloved  by  the 
settlers  save  as  a  pet  bird  whose  grace  and  beauty 
they  admired.  For  she  lacked  the  magnetism  of  her 
mother,  yet  received,  perhaps,  more  frequent  praise. 
There  was  still  that  difference  between  Eleanor  and 
Virginia  which  Marlowe  had  defined  as  the  difference 
between  spirituality  and  mysticism.  The  one  was  in 
all  ways  a  solace,  the  other  pretty  to  look  upon,  but 
never  restful,  and  this  lack  of  restfulness,  more  than 


A  Tale   of  the    Lost  Colony 


all  else,  explains  her  unpopularity  in  the  settlement 
of  laborers. 

To-daj^  feeling  more  restless  than  ever,  ''Look/' 
she  said,  "  Roger  Prat  shall  pipe  to  us/'  With  which 
she  led  her  companion  by  the  hand  through  the  bab- 
bling throng  to  Roger,  who,  arm-in-arm  with  his 
bear,  was  swaggering  here  and  there,  discoursing 
bombastically  on  the  approaching  ships,  as  though 
he  himself  deserved  thanks  for  the  benefit. 

''How  now,  Goodman  Prat,''  inquired  Virginia, 
as  they  joined  him;  "art  going  to  leave  thy  flute  si- 
lent at  such  a  time?" 

He  turned  and,  with  head  on  one  side,  surveyed 
her  narrowly  "The  pipe  pipeth  no  more,"  he  said, 
"for  the  necessary  wind  hath  gone  out  of  my  heart." 

"Lungs,"  corrected  Virginia,  with  a  silvery  laugh. 

"Lungs,"  he  assented,  gravely;  "but.  White  Doe, 
see  here!"  He  pointed  to  a  small  tabor  that  hung 
by  his  side.  "1  have  brought  this  drum  wherewith 
to  celebrate.  Hark  to  Roger's  tattoo!"  And,  draw- 
ing from  his  belt  a  pair  of  drum-sticks,  he  marched 
about,  with  a  rat-a-tat- tat- tat- too.  "Sing,  ho,  the 
taborin,  little  taborin,"  he  cried,  "merry  taborin," 
and  his  sticks  danced  furiously  on  the  drum.  He 
was  thinking  of  England,  and  of  the  chance  that  he 
might  return  to  forgive  Gyll  Cro^^den. 

But  Virginia,  pouting,  turned  away.  "That  is 
not  music,"  she  said  to  the  Indian.    "  He  is  changed." 

Hers  was  the  only  frown  that,  until  now,  had 
crossed  a  face  that  morning.  Hilarity  laid  hold  on 
the  jubilant  throng,  and  turned  all  save  the  most 
serious  ones  to  children. 

Musket -shots  rang  out  in  celebration;  cheer  on 
cheer  filled  the  air,  until,  growing  hoarse  with  their 
incessant  huzzahs,  planters,  soldiers,  traders,  wives, 
daughters,  sons,  and  even  lonely  widows  and  or- 

279 


/ 


J 

H 


soft 

r 


4 


John  Vytal 

phans,  still  kept  waving  their  arms  to  the  distant 
ships  in  silence.  And  still  Roger,  with  King  Lud 
in  his  wake,  went  the  round,  now  gesticulating  in 
the  air  with  both  of  his  drum-sticks,  next  pointing 
with  one  to  the  sails,  and  again  setting  the  pair  ajig 
on  his  tabor  in  clamorous  acclaim. 

Suddenly,  however,  catching  sight  of  Vytal's  face, 
he  desisted  and  hastened  to  the  captain's  side.  Vytal 
spoke  in  a  low  voice  that  none  but  Prat  and  Hugh 
Rouse  might  catch  the  tenor  of  his  words.  ''An  1 
mistake  not,  those  ships  are  not  our  friends.''  Roger 
and  Hugh  turned,  in  dismay,  to  look  once  more  across 
the  water. 

Rouse,  shading  his  eyes  with  a  great  hand,  swore 
roundly  beneath  his  breath. 

''Body  o'  me!"  exclaimed  Prat,  who  for  once  could 
say  no  more. 

Vytal  had  spoken  truly.  For  now  that  the  ships 
came  slowly  within  range  of  the  watchers'  vision, 
the  fact  became  obvious  to  one  and  another  on  the 
headland  that  these  were  not  vessels  of  English  build. 

Gradually  a  desperate  silence  assumed  sway  over 
the  colonists,  while  they  advanced  anxiously  to  the 
cliff's  edge.     "They  are  enemies,"  whispered  one. 

"  Ay,  'fore  Heaven,  they  are  not  of  friendly  counte- 
nance." 

Then  a  voice  rose  trembling  in  a  high  key,  and 
Ananias,  terror-struck,  covered  his  eyes.  "Oh,  my 
God!  the  two  are  Spaniards  from  St.  Augustine. 
Look  !     Look  !     One  is  the  Madre  de  Dios!" 

Vytal  turned  quickly  to  the  settlers.  "Yes,  they 
are  Spaniards,"  he  said,  harshly,  "and  one  is  the 
Madre  de  Dios.  She  hath  been  defeated  once;  'tis 
for  us  to  sink  her  now." 

A  low  groan  ran  through  the  throng.  Alarm  had 
stifled  hope.     But,  as  none  gave  answer,  Vytal  spoke 

280 


A  Tale   of  the    Lost   Colony 

again.  ''Let  those  who  are  afraid  return  and  seek 
safety  at  Croatan.  I  and  my  men  will  meet  them/' 
"Yea,"  laughed  Prat,  ''right  gladly  meet  them/' 
But  already  half  the  number  had  deserted,  and, 
led  by  Ananias,  were  now  stampeding  toward  their 
barges  on  the  southern  shore.  Only  the  fighting- 
men  and  Eleanor  remained  on  the  headland.  Sud- 
denly an  ejaculation  from  Prat  caused  Vytal  to  turn. 
The  foremost  of  the  Spanish  vessels  stood  tentatively 
with  flapping  sails,  as  though  undecided,  and  in 
another  moment  a  long,  rakish-looking  craft,  pro- 
pelled by  several  rowers,  had  left  the  ships,  and  was 
making  its  way  to  the  shore.  In  the  prow  an  of&cer, 
gaudily  dressed,  stood  erect,  waving  aloft  a  pike, 
from  the  blade  of  which  a  white  flag  floated  lightly  on 
the  breeze.  Slowly  the  long-boat  drew  nearer,  until 
its  stem  swished  on  the  sand.  Then,  stepping  out, 
the  Spanish  officer,  wearing  no  visible  arms,  turned 
to  one  and  another  with  a  lordly  insolence,  and  finally 
accosted  Vytal  in  English.  "1  am  the  admiral,'" 
he  said,  "  of  our  little  fleet,  and  would  speak  with  a 
person  in  command." 

"1,"  said  Vytal,  "govern  the  colony." 
On  hearing  this  the  Spaniard  started  perceptibly 
and  scrutinized  the  bleak,  impassive  face  with  height- 
ened interest.  "Alay  1  inquire,"  he  asked,  with  a 
curious  mingling  of  autocratic  condescension  and 
true  respect,  "concerning  your  Excellency's  name?" 
'"Tis  the  Wolf,"  replied  Roger  Prat,  impulsively, 
before  Vytal  could  answer. 

The  admiral  smiled.  "  Ah,  the  Wolf !  'tis  wxll  for 
me  1  seek  only  an  armistice  at  your  hands — a  short 
and  friendly  truce.  We  are  in  sore  straits.  Having 
but  recently  escaped  wreckage,  we  are  now  like  to  die 
of  thirst  and  starvation.  1  have  here  the  usual  con- 
ditions of  an  armistice,  which  1  submit  for  your  con- 

281 


John  Vytal 


sideration/'  and  he  handed  Vytal  a  sheet  of  paper 
which  conveyed,  in  EngHsh,  his  proposal : 

"I.  That  we  be  permitted  to  buy  victuals. 

"  II.  That  we  be  allowed  to  lie  off  the  coast  of  Virginia  without 
annoyance  or  molestation  until  our  ships,  which  are  in  leaky 
state,  shall  have  been  repaired. 

"  III.  That  we  be  granted  the  right  to  come  ashore  in  small 
bodies  for  the  procuring  of  lumber  and  implements  necessary  in 
this  work  of  repair,  and  for  supplies,  all  of  which  commodities, 
including  any  others  that  may  be  offered  and  desired,  shall  be 
purchased  at  a  just  rate. 

"  IV.  That  we,  on  our  part,  shall  come  to  land  unarmed,  your 
soldiers  to  have  the  full  privilege  of  searching  us. 

'  V.  That  your  right  and  title  to  Roanoke  Island,  and  such 
adjacent  territory  as  you  inhabit,  shall  in  all  ways  be  respected 
by  us." 

Vytal,  having  read  the  document  aloud,  handed 
it  back  to  its  author.  ''This  hath  been  quickly 
framed/'  he  said,  scanning  narrowly  the  other's  face; 
''or  else  it  was  writ  before  you  sighted  Roanoke."' 

The  Spaniard  laughed  uneasily.  "1  perceive," 
he  said,  "that  his  Excellency,  the  Wolf,  hath  eyes 
which  read  a  man's  soul.  Yet  I  myself  indited 
these  proposals  at  seeing  your  company  on  the 
headland.  'Twas  in  no  way  preconceived,  and 
that  is  truth." 

"How  many  men  do  you  command?"  asked  Vy- 
tal, with  slow  deliberation. 

"Threescore  soldiers,"  was  the  quick  response. 
Tis  well, "  said  Vytal, "  and  we  are  trebly  strong. " 
Trebly!"  ejaculated  the  admiral, unguardedly. 

"Nay,"  observed  Vytal,  inwardly  numbering  the 
Indians  as  allies.     "Much  more  than  trebly." 

The  Spaniard  covered  his  surprise  with  a  yawn. 
"1  trust  you  will  make  haste,"  he  said,  "for  while 
you  delay  we  starve." 

"So  be  it,"  assented  Vytal,  curtly,  and  turned  on 
his  heel. 

282 


A   Tale   of  the    Lost    Colony 

The  admiral  bowed  and  withdrew  to  his  long-boat. 

'"Tis  our  only  chance/'  said  Vytal  to  Eleanor. 
"  We  must  arm  every  man,  red  and  white,  that,  in  the 
event  of  treacher^^  we  may  die  fighting.'' 

"Think  you,  then,"  she  asked,  anxiously, '' their 
force  is  so  much  the  stronger?" 

"Beyond  doubt,  madam,  they  far  outnumber  us." 
His  face  grew  tense,  and  for  a  moment  almost  desper- 
ate. "  If  they  gain  knowledge  of  our  weakness,  we 
are  lost." 

He  spoke  hurriedly  to  Rouse.  "Go  instantly  to 
Croatan.  Ask  Manteo  to  bring  his  tribesmen  here 
without  delay.  Say  that  1  have  sent  you.  Speak, 
then,  to  our  own  people.  Adjure  them,  in  God's  name, 
to  proceed  hither  within  the  hour.  Make  known  the 
conditions  of  the  armistice.  If  fear  still  deters  them, 
and  they  suspect  treachery  on  the  part  of  our  enemies, 
make  no  threat,  but  say  that  only  within  this  palisado 
can  we  hope  for  safety.  At  Croatan  they  could  not 
possibly  withstand  invaders.  Here  the  fortifica- 
tions are  ready  built.  Let  the  people  bring  all  avail- 
able provisions  for  a  siege,  yet  mention  not  the  word 
'siege.'  Say  merely  that  until  the  Spanish  depart 
we  remain  here  to  trade  with  them."  He  turned  to 
Prat.  "  Do  you,  Roger,  go  with  Hugh,  and  by  your 
wit  compel  them  to  obey.  My  whole  trust  is  in  you 
both.     Make  haste!" 

Without  a  word  they  started  off,  the  giant  with 
great  strides,  the  vagabond  with  rolling  gait,  and 
for  once  not  garrulous,  but  genuinelj^  grave. 

Vytal,  returning  to  the  headland,  spoke  to  Dyonis 
Harvie,  who  stood  near  by.  "  You,  Dyonis,  assume 
command  of  the  fortress,  where  the  women  and 
children  w411  look  to  you  for  their  defence." 

For   many  minutes  Eleanor   and  Vytal  stood  in 

283 


John  Vytal:  A  Tale  of  the  Lost  Colony 

silence,  motionless.  From  far  away  came  the  sound 
of  the  surf  droning  on  the  beach,  with  which,  from 
beyond  the  screen  of  woods  between  them  and  the 
town,  a  low  hum  of  preparation  was  blent  monot- 
onously. At  last  they  walked  to  the  brow  of  the 
cliff  whereon  stood  the  watchful  culverin,  and  looked 
down  at  the  lengthening  shadows  on  the  shore. 

Small  groups  of  Spaniards  and  Englishmen  were 
gathered  together  here  and  there  busy  in  trade. 

''They  buy  and  sell  most  peacefull^^''  observed 
Eleanor. 

"Yes,"  said  Vytal,  ''they  traffic  as  friends/' 


», 


CHAPTER  11 

"Here,  man,  rip  up  this  panting  breast  of  mine, 
And  take  my  heart  in  rescue  of  my  friends." 

— Marlowe,  in  Edicard  the  Second. 

On  the  fourth  night  after  the  ships'  arrival,  the 
colonists  and  Hatteras  Indians,  all  of  whom,  at  Vy- 
tal's  command,  had  come  from  Croatan,  congressed 
near  the  fortress  of  Roanoke.  In  the  centre  of  the 
square  a  cami>fire  of  great  logs  and  dried  branches 
roared  and  crackled  cheerfulh^  Avhile  encircling  the 
blaze  sat  red  men  and  white,  some  half  prone  in  sleep, 
others  upright  and  talking.  Somewhat  apart  from 
the  main  gathering,  and  just  beyond  range  of  the 
firelight,  were  Vytal  and  Manteo,  while,  midway 
between  them  and  a  number  of  sleeping  soldiers,  sat 
Virginia  Dare  and  her  Indian  comrade.  Not  far 
away  lay  Hugh  Rouse,  sprawled  near  the  outer  bor- 
der of  embers,  and  snoring  loudly,  while  next  to  him 
sat  Roger  Prat,  blinking  at  the  fire.  In  the  fortress 
most  of  the  women  and  children,  under  D^^onis  Har- 
vie's  protection,  were  slumbering  peacefully,  while 
Dyonis  himself  sat  j^awning  in  the  doorway.  Each 
of  the  three  entrances  to  the  town  was  guarded  by 
one  or  more  pickets,  well  armed.  At  the  northern 
gateway,  which  led  to  Vytal's  cabin,  a  single  sentry 
stood  alert;  at  the  southern  and  nearest,  by  which 
Eleanor  had  made  egress  that  night  when  Frazer 
and  Towaye  had  captured  her,  another  soldier  kept 
careful  watch ;  at  the  main  portal  on  the  eastern  side 

285 


John  Vytal 

two  sentinels  paced  to  and  fro  with  muskets  loaded. 
Furthermore,  a  body  of  twelve  arquebusiers  lay  far 
below  on  the  beach,  to  make  sure  that  from  the  Span- 
ish ships  no  landing  was  attempted. 
^  To  trade  at  night,  or  leave  the  town  without  Vy- 

tal's  permission,  was  forbidden.  And  perhaps  only 
one  person  at  Roanoke  rebelled  inwardly  against  the 
latter  restriction.  This  was  Virginia  Dare,  whose 
nature  demanded  absolute  freedom.  ''Oh,  tell  me. 
Dark  Eye,''  she  said,  as  the  silence  and  bondage  be- 
came unbearable,  "  why  are  w^e  compelled  to  remain 
here  like  prisoners?" 

"It  is  the  will  of  our  father,  the  Wolf,''  rephed  the 
Indian.     ''He  seeks  to  protect  his  children." 

She  made  an  impatient  gesture.  "Come,  Dark 
Eye,  let  us  ask  Roger  Prat  if  we  may  not  go  down  to 
the  sea  for  another  shell  and  for  my  father.  Dost 
know  he  strangely  disappeared  to-day  and  has  not 
been  seen  again?" 

"Thy  father  disappeared?"  exclaimed  the  Indian. 

"  Yes,  within  the  forest.  But  come!"  and  together 
they  joined  the  soldier.  "Goodman  Prat,  1  pray 
you  give  us  liberty.  Not  all  the  armies  of  the  world 
can  find  us  an  we  hide.  There  are  caves,  ravines, 
arbors — " 

"Yes,"  interposed  Prat,  dreamily,  "arbors,  grape- 
arbors." 

"Come,"  she  persisted,  "take  us  past  the  centro- 
nel." 

With  a  jerk  of  his  head,  as  though  awaking  from 
reverie,  Roger  looked  up  at  her.  "  Naj^  White  Doe, 
it  is  impossible.  Will  you  not  sit  here  and  comfort 
me?    1  am  depressed." 

Poutingly,  she  granted  his  request,  and,  patting 
the  grass  beside  her,  indicated  an  adjacent  seat  for 
the  Indian.     "How  now,  Roger?"  said  she.     "Why 

286 


A  Tale   of  the   Lost  Colony 

so  glum  and  owlish?  Is  't  because  your  friend  King 
Lud  is  absent?'' 

For  a  moment  Prat  surveyed  her  in  silence,  rolling 
his  eyes,  until  at  length,  "Nay/'  he  replied,  "I  am 
well  accustomed  to  his  Majesty's  peregrinations. 
Oftentimes  for  a  whole  week  he  roves,  and  never  a 
sight  of  him.  'Tis  but  three  days  now  since  he  went 
a-nutting.  Nay,  nay,  'tis  not  o'  the  bear  1  think — 
not  o'  the  bear." 

"Of  what,  then?" 

But,  giving  no  answer,  he  only  blinked  and  blinked 
at  the  fire,  so  mournfully  that  many,  noticing  his 
look,  long  remembered  it. 

Vytal  watched  him  silently. 

"He  hath  even  forgot,"  observed  Manteo,  "to 
smoke  his  pipe  of  uppowac." 

The  soldier  made  no  response,  but  asked,  finally : 
"Art  sleepy,  Manteo?" 

"Nay,  most  wakeful." 

"1,  too,  am  so;  but  sith  for  two  nights  no  sleep 
hath  come  to  me,  'tis  essential  that  1  rest.  Do  you 
keep  watch,  and,  if  aught  occurs  bej^ond  the  ordinary, 
arouse  me  instantly."  Whereupon,  stretching  him- 
self at  full  length,  Vytal  folded  his  arms  across  his 
eyes. 

Nearly  all  were  now  lying  asleep,  and  the  fire 
burned  very  low.  Only  Virginia  Dare,  Dark  Eye, 
and  Roger  Prat  seemed  wide-awake. 

The  low  tread  of  the  sentinel  at  the  nearest  gate 
told  them  that  safety  was  assured.  The  stillness  of 
the  town,  profound  and  all-pervading,  was  broken  at 
rare  intervals  only  by  the  screech  of  an  owl  or  the 
low  murmur  of  voices,  while  the  dreary  monotone 
of  the  distant  surf  seemed  as  it  were  to  accompany 
the  dirge  of  silence. 

Suddenly,  however,  the  sentry's  voice,  in  a  low 

287 


John  Vytal 

challenge,  caught  the  quick  ear  of  Virginia,  but,  as 
Prat  turned  apprehensively,  she  laughed  aloud. 
Then  Roger  himself  shook  with  merriment.  ''  Body 
o'  me  !  he  hath  challenged  King  Lud,  and,  Fll  war- 
rant, is  now  calling  himself  a  fool.  Behold  his 
Majesty!''  And,  sure  enough,  there  was  the  well- 
known  bulky  form  loping  on  all  fours  through  the 
entrance.  As  it  came  near  the  circle  of  firelight  the 
cumbrous  shadow  flattened  out. 

''He's  not  overjoj^ed  to  see  you,"  laughed  Vir- 
ginia, and  she  would  have  gone  forward  to  pat  the 
shaggy  head,  but  Prat  restrained  her. 

"  Nay,  w^ait.  'Tis  a  trick  of  his.  He  knows  well 
he  hath  been  a  deserter,  and  is  full  of  shame.  Look 
you — his  eyes  are  shut;  the  prankish  monarch  pre- 
tends to  be  indifferently  asleep.  Now  take  no  notice, 
but  out  of  the  corner  of  your  eye  watch  him.  He  al- 
ways comes  to  me  in  the  end,  an  1  pay  no  attention  to 
his  whimsicality." 

Virginia,  pleased  at  any  diversion,  cast  a  side- 
long glance  at  the  long  snout  which  lay  tranquilly 
between  the  paws,  more  in  the  position  of  a  dog's  nose 
than  a  bear's.  ''For  once,"  she  observed,  "his  Maj- 
esty is  not  sniffing  at  us." 

'"Tis  his  game,"  declared  Prat.  "Now  watch, 
and  I'll  turn  my  back  impertinently." 

For  some  time  the  huge  pate  lay  motionless.  "  He's 
really  asleep,"  said  Virginia. 

"That  may  be,"  allowed  Roger,  "for  1  doubt  not 
his  three  days'  roaming  has  wearied  him  considera- 
bly. He's  a  cub  no  longer,  and  has,  Fll  swear,  lum- 
bago, like  myself.  Let  him  lie.  But  here's  a  great 
brute  who's  slept  too  long. "  And  Roger  poked  Hugh 
Rouse  viciously  with  his  foot.  Yawning,  the  giant 
rolled  over,  and  surveyed  them  stupidly.  "Num- 
skull!" exclaimed  Prat,  "thank  the  Lord  we  look 

288 


A  Tale   of  the    Lost  Colony 

not  to  3^ou  for  protection.  Td  sooner  trust  King  Lud, 
though  for  the  moment  even  he's  a-dreaming/' 

Virginia,  amused  at  his  raillery,  cast  another 
look  behind  her.  ''Nay/'  she  whispered.  ''See,  he 
has  crawled  nearer.'' 

"Oh,  has  he,  indeed!"  said  Roger.  "I'll  give  him 
his  deserts  in  time.  But  first  this  dwarfling  here 
must  explain  himself."  He  glanced  down  at  Rouse. 
"  How  now,  sirrah? — think  you  we  are  safe  at  home  in 
England?  Do  your  weighty  dreams  increase  our 
numbers,  that  are  in  reality  so  desperate  small  ?  Think 
you  the  Spanish  force  could  not  swallow  us  up  as 
thy  great  maw  would  engulf  a  herring?  Poor  fool, 
sleep  on  in  thy  fond  delusion,"  and,  raising  his  brows 
in  feigned  contempt,  Roger  turned  to  the  silent  Ind- 
ian and  Virginia.  "  Now  the  lord  chancellor  shall 
have  the  honor  of  punishing  his  renegade  monarch 
right  merrily." 

He  rose,  turned,  and  swaggered  toward  the  ungain- 
ly shadow. 

As  if  the  animal  had  readily  divined  his  intention, 
the  great  nose  shifted  now  this  way,  now  that,  irres- 
olutely. "See!"  cried  Roger,  "he  creeps  away  like 
a  beaten  hound,"  and  Virginia  saw  the  bowlder-like 
shadow  rolling  off  toward  the  palisade. 

"Villain!"  cried  Prat,  "come  hither,"  with  which 
he  ran  forward  wrathfully. 

But  just  as  he  was  about  to  cuif  the  upraised  snout 
with  the  palm  of  his  hand,  the  awkward  figure  rose, 
and  a  glistering  light  shone  for  an  instant  in  the 
fire-glare.  With  a  groan  Roger  stumbled,  and  would 
have  fallen,  but  now  a  mass  of  dark  fur  was  flung  at 
his  feet,  and  a  man,  who  had  emerged  from  beneath 
it,  started,  quick  as  a  flash,  toward  the  gateway. 
Uttering  a  loud  oath  of  pain  and  anger,  the  soldier 
sprang  across  the  bearskin,  and,  although  mortally 
T  289 


John  Vytal:  A  Tale  of  the  Lost  Colony 

wounded,  contrived  to  grasp  the  stranger.  Then, 
with  a  great  effort,  for  at  each  moment  the  blood 
spurted  from  his  breast,  he  threw  his  captive  heavily 
to  the  ground.  Again  and  again  his  antagonist's 
short  blade  flashed  and  buried  itself  in  his  arm ;  yet, 
flinging  himself  bodily  on  the  writhing  form,  Roger 
held  the  spy  a  prisoner. 

Even  as  he  fell,  a  cry  from  Manteo  awoke  Vytal, 
'  while  the  others,  startled  by  the  commotion,  leaped 
to  their  feet  in  wild  confusion.  Then,  above  the  tur- 
moil, rose  VytaFs  voice  piercingly:  '''Tis  naught!'" 
For  a  single  glance  at  the  struggling  pair  and  the 
empty  bearskin  had  told  him  that  a  spy  was  caught. 

As  the  excited  colonists  gathered  about  the  grai>- 
pling  couple,  Roger  rolled  over  in  a  swoon,  and  Vytal 
looked  down  at  the  captive,  who  was  in  an  instant 
held  firmly  by  Manteo  and  Rouse. 

"It  is  Frazer,''  he  said,  calmly.  "'Bind  him,  and 
take  him  to  the  fort.'' 

''  Nay,"  was  the  prisoner's  rejoinder,  in  a  low,  musi- 
cal voice, ''  'tis  his  Highness,  the  Crown  Prince." 


CHAPTER  111 

"Oh,  must  this  day  be  period  of  my  Hfe?'i 

— AlARLOWE,  in  Edward  the  Second. 

As  Vytal  turned  from  Frazer  his  face  changed. 
The  look  of  cold  hate  gave  way  to  an  even  deeper  ex- 
pression of  sadness,  which,  mellowing  his  bleak  vis- 
age as  the  sunset  glow  softens  the  outlines  of  a  rock^ 
bespoke  tender  concern  and  apprehension. 

Around  Roger  a  crowd  had  gathered,  to  the  centre 
of  which  Vytal  gravely  made  his  way. 

The  soldier  lay  prone  and  silent,  the  bearskin, 
which  had  been  folded,  forming  a  pillow  for  his  head. 
He  had  evidently  regained  consciousness,  3^et  from 
his  bared  chest  a  stream  of  blood  welled  slowly.  Fra- 
zer's  weai3on  had  pierced  a  lung. 

Beside  him  knelt  Hugh  Rouse,  imploring  him  to 
speak.  ''Call  me  names,  Roger;  berate  me  an  you 
will  for  sleeping;  but  say  'tis  no  mortal  wound.'' 

A  chirurgeon  who  stood  near  by  shook  his  head. 
'''Tis,  indeed,  mortal,"  he  declared. 

And  Roger's  eyes  rolling  up  to  the  chirurgeon's 
face  seemed  to  repeat,  "  Yes,  mortal." 

As  the  firelight  was  now  obscured  b}^  the  crowd, 
several  soldiers,  snatching  resinous  branches  from 
the  blaze,  held  them  aloft  to  look  once  more  upon  their 
comrade's  face.  Vytal  bent  over  the  d3^ing  man. 
"Dost  know  me,  Roger?" 

Slowly  the  lips  parted  as  the  round  head  shifted 
restlessly.     "Yea,  well;  and  always  1  shall  know 

291 


John  Vytal 

you.  Body  o'  me!  not  know  Captain  Vytal — I,  Prat, 
who  have  followed  him  through  thick  and  thin?  'Tis 
impossible/' 

He  raised  his  head  and  smiled  at  Rouse.  "And 
you,  too,  my  dwarfish  soul — how  could  1  mistake  that 
shock  o'  flaxen  hair?"  He  passed  a  hand  over  the 
giant's  head  affectionately;  then,  rising  with  pain 
to  one  elbow,  turned  again  to  Vytal. 

''You  have  saved  us,"  said  the  captain,  ''but  at 
what  a  cost!" 

Prat  made  a  deprecatory  gesture.  "Ay,  thank 
God!  saved  you,"  he  replied;  "yet  have  a  care. 
This  Frazer  hath  heard  me  prating  to  Rouse  anent 
our  weakness.  You'll  look  to  it,  no  doubt,  he  con- 
veys not  the  information  to  that  peacock,  the  Spanish 
admiral.  But,  ah  me,  the  young  wild -slip  hath 
killed  King  Lud.  My  last  pet  is  departed.  Oh,  why 
did  1  not  know  his  Majesty  would  never  crawl  away 
like  a  whipped  cur?  In  troth  'twas  most  unnatural. 
Yet  the  darkness  favored  him  —  the  darkness  —  i' 
faith  'tis  even  darker  now."  With  an  effort,  he  put 
a  hand  to  his  belt,  and,  drawing  out  the  flute  that 
for  so  long  had  been  silent,  held  it  to  his  lips.  But, 
without  sounding  a  single  strain,  he  let  it  fall  with 
one  of  his  old  grimaces.  "Nay,"  he  muttered,  "not 
a  note;  ne'ertheless,  when  I'm  gone, 'Be  merry, 
friends;  a  fig  for  care  and  a  fig  for  woe;  be  merry, 
friends. ' "  He  sank  back  exhausted  and  closed  his 
eyes. 

"He  is  dead,"  groaned  Hugh. 

But  Roger,  with  a  drawn  smile,  eyed  him  side- 
ways. "  Not  dead  by  any  means,  poor  dullard.  No, 
not  yet  dead." 

At  this  his  face  brightened  for  a  moment,  and  he 
groped  in  the  breast  of  his  doublet  near  the  wound. 
Several  fine  threads  of  gold  were  woven  round  his 

292 


A  Tale   of  the  Lost  Colony 

fingers,  but  no  one  saw  them.  "  Take  nothing  from 
me/'  he  said;  and  then,  withdrawing  his  hand, 
smiled  ahnost  bitterly.  "  'Tis  just  as  well  1  die,  for 
my  life,  as  the  song  saith,  hath  been  lived  to  '  please 
one  and  please  all,'  everlastingly  'please  one  and 
please  all,  so  pipeth  the  crow  sitting  upon  a  wall.' 
Well- a- day,  let  the  crow  pipe  on,  but  Roger  pipeth 
no  longer." 

His  bulging  eyes  flashed  suddenly  in  the  cressets' 
glare.  "Nay,  Fm  no  piper,  but  a  fighting -man,'' 
whereupon,  rising  once  more  with  a  great  effort  to 
one  elbow,  he  drew  his  broadsword  and  for  a  moment 
held  it  aloft.  Then  slowly,  as  the  flame  died  out 
of  his  eyes,  he  pointed  with  it  toward  the  palisade. 
''Bury  me  over  there,"  he  said,  eagerly,  "beyond 
the  town — over  there  in  the  glade.  Captain  Vytal, 
near  the  western  shore.  'Tis  where  she  danced, 
you'll  remember,  and  King  Lud  cut  capers  before 
the  Indians.  There  I'll  lie  in  peace,  and  think  o' 
the  old  mirthfulness,  and  sometimes  the  sound  of 
your  guns  will  come  to  remind  me  I'm  a  soldier." 
He  held  out  the  heavy  blade  to  Vytal.  "  Lay  it  un- 
sheathed beside  me,  captain;  also  the  flute  and  up- 
powac  pipe."  Once  again  his  head  fell  to  the  bear- 
skin pillow.  "You  might  shroud  me,"  he  added, 
feebly,  "with  all  that  remains  of  poor  King  Lud." 

"It  shall  be  done  as  you  require,"  said  Vytal, 
hoarsely. 

And  now  there  was  silence  save  for  the  light  rustle 
through  the  forest  of  a  new-come  breeze,  which  fanned 
the  tearful  cheeks  of  the  watchers  and  set  the  many 
torches  flickering  so  that  their  light  wavered  un- 
certainly across  the  djang  man.  Roger's  eyes  were 
closed,  yet  once  more  his  lips  parted.  "'Be  merry, 
friends,'  "  and,  with  an  old,  familiar  smile,  he  died. 


293 


John    Vy  t  a  1 

When  at  last  day  dawned  a  striking  scene  was  vis- 
ible on  the  shore. 

In  the  prow  of  his  long-boat,  not  over  twenty  feet 
from  the  beach,  stood  the  Spanish  admiral,  while 
from  the  brink  of  the  water  Vytal  spoke  to  him. 

Farther  up  the  strand  twelve  musketeers  were 
ranged  in  line  with  weapons  aimed,  not  at  the 
long-boat's  crew,  but  at  a  single  figure  that  stood 
against  the  cliff.  This  form,  slight  and  graceful, 
was  nevertheless  distinctly  masculine  in  bearing. 
With  eyes  blindfolded,  mouth  gagged,  and  hands  fet- 
tered behind  liis  back,  the  man  awaited  his  fate 
calmly. 

But  the  fate  was  yet  unknown.  The  inusketeers 
stolidly  awaited  the  last  signal  from  their  leader, 
and  the  signal  was  delayed. 

"You  perceive,''  said  Vytal  to  the  admiral,  ''that 
your  friend's  life  is  in  imminent  danger.  At  a  word 
from  me  he  falls,  but  at  the  word  1  desire  from  you 
he  lives  and  shall  be  saved." 

The  Spaniard  bowed  haughtily.  "Name  your 
conditions,"  and  with  a  sweep  of  their  oars  the  rowers 
drew  nearer  to  the  shore.  Vytal  turned  and  glanced 
upward  at  the  headland,  from  which  the  colonists 
were  looking  down  in  silent  curiosity.  Foremost  of 
all  stood  Eleanor  Dare  watching  him. 

He  faced  about  again  to  address  the  admiral. 
"  The  condition  is  this :  that  you  abandon  to  us  the 
Madre  de  Dios  in  exchange  for  the  prisoner.  Your 
spy  hath  broken  our  truce.  There  are  but  two  avail- 
able indemnities — the  one  your  ship,  the  other  his 
life  as  forfeit.     1  bid  you  choose." 

An  ironical  smile  crossed  the  Spaniard's  face.  "  Do 
you  consider  his  life  of  so  great  value?"  he  asked, 
banteringly. 

"Nay,"  said  Vytal,  "1  but  seek  to  estimate  your 

294 


A  Tale   of  the  Lost   Colony 

own  valuation.  This  fellow  hath  boasted  of  a  royal 
guardian — even  the  King  of  Spain/' 

The  admiral  bit  his  lip.  "  But  how  am  1  to  make 
certain  that  you  act  in  good  faith?'' 

Vytal  turned  sharply  to  the  musketeers  and  raised 
his  hand,  while  his  lips  parted.  The  marksmen's 
e3''es  came  down  closer  to  their  aim,  and  there  was  a 
concerted  click. 

""Stay!"  cried  the  Spaniard,  in  alarm.  ''1  agree 
to  your  proviso." 

Vytal 's  hand  fell,  and  the  sharp-shooters  stood  at 
rest.  "To-night,"  said  the  soldier,  ''we  shall  be 
ready  to  man  your  vessel." 

Slowly  the  long-boat  withdrew,  and  now  Eleanor, 
having  come  down  from  the  headland,  stood  at  Vy- 
tal's  side.  •  Her  face  was  flushed  with  excited  hope 
and  admiration.  "  You  have  worked  our  salvation, 
captain." 

"Nay,"  he  returned,  harshly,  "not  yet." 


CHAPTER  1  ^ 

"This  fear  is  that  which  makes  me  tremble  thus." 

— Marlowe,  in  Edward  the  Second. 

The  stern  discipline  of  that  evening  was  broken 
by  one  of  the  colonists,  who,  having  earlier  entered 
the  town  from  the  western  wood,  now  reeled  through 
the  streets,  crazed  by  inebriety  and  fear.  As  the 
gates  were  not  yet  closed,  he  was  permitted  once  more 
to  leave  the  enclosure,  which  he  did  by  the  eastern 
entrance.  Beyond  the  palisade  he  paused  for  a 
moment,  swaying  heavily,  and  gazed  down  at  the 
shore. 

The  moon,  in  its  first  quarter,  was  sinking  behind 
a  film  of  gray  clouds.  A  few  traders,  Spanish  and 
English,  stood  bargaining  on  the  beach.  The  two 
vessels,  without  lights,  lay  motionless  at  anchor. 
A  number  of  canoes  were  hauled  up  on  the  sand, 
their  birch-bark  sides  shining  like  silver  in  the  moon- 
light. The  man,  looking  up  and  down  the  coast, 
recognized  Vytal's  gaunt  figure  in  the  distance,  and 
he  realized  hazily  that  the  soldier  was  inspecting  the 
coast-guard  before  returning  to  the  town. 

But  the  blear  eyes  wandered  back  to  that  line  of 
silver  craft,  and  now,  with  uncertain  gait,  the  lonely 
man  descended  from  the  headland.  Then,  with  a 
wave  of  his  hand  to  the  contemptuous  traders,  he 
stepped  into  one  of  the  canoes,  and,  unsteadily  seat- 
ing himself,  made  his  way  along  the  coast  with 
wavering  sweeps  of  his  paddle. 

296 


John  Vytal:   A  Tale  of  the  Lost  Colony 

On  coming  at  last  to  that  part  of  the  beach  where 
Vytal  was  giving  instructions  to  the  arquebusiers,  he 
paused,  and,  keeping  his  canoe  several  paces  from 
shore,  spoke  quickly  to  the  soldier.  ''1  am  going/' 
he  said,  pointing  with  his  paddle  to  the  eastward, 
"away,  anywhere,^ far  away/' 

Vytal  turned  in  surprise.     ''  You're  mad. " 

The  other  smiled  absently,  and,  waving  his  wood- 
en blade,  held  it  out  toward  the  forest.  ''Yes,  de- 
lightfully mad.  Devilish  Winginas  over  there — saw 
them  my  own  self  when  1  started  to  go  away  to 
the  mainland.  Long  line  of  red  demons  waiting 
— demons  'stremely  like  those  Ralph  Contempt  de- 
scribed— all  waiting  to  capture  the  town.  You'd 
better  have  a  care  and  come  away.  I'm  going  away 
— anywhere — any  place  whatever,  out  into  the  dark- 
ness— through  the  inlet — over  the  sea — away  from 
it  all,  from  all  the  danger  and  trouble,  all  the  night- 
mares and  remorse.  I've  spent  my  life  retreating, 
now  ril  retreat  once  more — once  more. "  The  moon- 
light, falling  across  his  face,  showed  a  look  so  de- 
spairing, haunted,  and  j^et  drunkenly  cheerful,  that 
for  a  moment  Vytal  stood  transfixed,  staring  at  him, 
as  at  an  apparition  of  the  night.  The  bloodshot 
eyes  were  wide  open  and  wet  with  maudlin  tears; 
the  hair  was  dishevelled  and  damp  with  the  sweat 
of  terror.  Yet  even  now  there  was  a  certain  weird 
beauty  in  the  face,  a  peculiar  and  exquisite  refine- 
ment. But  from  behind  the  beauty  a  despicable  soul 
looked  out  of  the  eyes,  so  that  even  Vytal  shuddered 
as  he  saw  their  glance. 

Courage  stood  face  to  face  with  naked  Fear. 

With  a  look  of  disgust,  Vytal  glanced  about  for 
another  boat,  but  none  was  near  them. 

Slowly  the  canoe  drifted  from  the  shore,  its  occu- 
pant bidding  farewell  to  Vytal  with  a  laugh  that 

297 


John  Vytal 

died  in  a  wail.  "Return,  or  1  shoot/'  said  the  sol- 
dier, sternly. 

But  at  this  the  paddle  splashed  frantically,  and 
the  canoe,  now  whirling  about,  now  darting  out  to 
sea,  went  farther  and  farther  from  the  land. 

Vytal,  for  once,  hesitated.  To  shoot  was  perhaps 
to  kill  the  man,  while  to  refrain  from  shooting  was 
almost  to  countenance  his  suicide.  As  a  compro- 
mise between  these  two  alternatives  the  soldier  took 
an  arquebus  from  one  of  his  men  and  fired  in  the  air. 

For  a  second  the  canoe  paused  in  its  outward 
course,  then  shot  far  seaward,  and  the  man,  wildly 
waving  his  paddle,  either  in  triumph  or  exi^ostulation, 
staggered  to  his  feet.  At  this  the  frail  craft  so  ca- 
reened and  trembled  that  before  he  could  stand  fully 
erect  a  torrent  of  water  rushed  in  across  the  gun- 
wale, and  Vytal,  aghast  on  the  shore,  just  distin- 
guished his  figure,  as,  with  a  piercing  cry,  he  tot- 
tered, fell  sideways,  and  sank  beneath  the  surface. 

''He  cannot  swim,''  said  one  of  the  arquebusiers, 
"any  better  than  a  gobbet  of  lead." 

Hastily  Vytal  waded  into  the  water,  and,  although 
there  were  no  traces  of  the  unfortunate  drunkard, 
would  have  struck  out  toward  the  upturned  craft, 
had  not  a  deep  voice  at  this  instant  restrained  him. 
Turning,  he  saw  Hugh  Rouse  standing  on  the  shore, 
beckoning  to  him  apprehensively. 

"Captain,  a  force  of  Winginas  attacks  the  west- 
ern palisado." 

Vytal  turned  to  one  of  the  musketeers.  "Bring 
hither  a  canoe  and  search  for  his  body.  He  is 
drowned  in  the  swift  undertow;"  then,  with  a  last 
searching  glance  across  the  silver  water,  Vytal  re- 
traced his  steps  to  the  beach. 

"To  the  town,  Hugh!  1  follow  immediately." 
He  turned  to  the  arquebusiers.     "  It  rests  with  you/' 

298 


A  Tale  of  the  Lost  Colony- 
he  said,  ''to  hold  the  Spaniards  back  from  land. 
Ask  no  reinforcements.  We  cannot  spare  them. 
Nor  yet  seek  to  retreat  within  the  enclosure.  You 
will  be  refused  admittance.  Your  post  is  here. 
Knowing  that  some  of  you  are  the  men  who  would 
have  mutinied  on  the  fly -boat  long  ago,  1  give 
you  this  opportunity  to  retrieve  yourselves/'  and, 
leaving  them,  he  made  his  way  speedily  to  the 
town. 

As  he  passed  within  the  main  portal  it  was  closed 
and  barricaded.  Rouse  and  a  score  of  the  ablest  sol- 
diers being  left  to  defend  it. 

He  stopped  at  the  fortress,  before  which  Dyonis 
Harvie  stood  on  guard,  heavily  armed.  Eleanor 
was  in  the  doorway.  Seeing  Vytal,  she  came  out 
into  the  square  and  spoke  to  him.     ''Is  it  well?'' 

"An  hour  wdll  show,"  he  answered,  quietly. 

"Then  you  fear  treachery?" 

"No,  I  do  not  fear  it." 

"But  you  suspect  it?" 

"Nay,  madam,  1  am  fully  aware  that  a  general 
attack  is  intended.  A  force  of  Winginas  already 
threatens  our  western  wall." 

She  hesitated,  seeming  loath  to  speak  her  mind, 
yet  compelled  by  a  certain  distrust  to  make  known 
her  anxiet3^  "I  hope,"  she  said,  as  though  half  to 
herself,  "  that  none  of  the  colonists  will  seek  to  leave 
by  the  Madre  de  Dios  until  the  issue  is  certain."  Her 
voice  faltered.  "  It  is  my  duty  to  tell  you  that  Ana- 
nias plans — " 

But  Vytal  shook  his  head  gravely.  "Mistress 
Eleanor,  Ananias  Dare  is  dead!" 

"Dead!"  she  gasped,  in  a  vague,  incredulous  be- 
wilderment.    "  Dead ! " 

"Yes;  drowned." 

A  high  flush  of  crimson  came  to  her  cheeks  and 

299 


(C 


John  Vytal 

suffused  itself  quickly  about  her  temples:  then  as 
suddenly  died,  leaving  her  wan  and  pallid. 

Vytal,  averting  his  face,  while  in  silence  she  re- 
entered the  fortress,  went  slowly  to  Dyonis  Harvie. 

Is  the  prisoner  well  guarded?'' 

Ay,  most  carefully — in  a  cell  below  the  fort/' 
Your  main  duties  are  to  protect  the  women  and 
keep  him  there;''  with  which  Vytal  turned  quickly 
away  toward  the  western  palisade. 

Save  for  the  light  of  the  stars  and  of  a  wavering 
flambeau  here  and  there,  the  town  was  in  darkness. 
And  but  for  the  occasional  reports  of  muskets,  as 
the  inland  pickets  fired  into  the  forest  at  an  unseen 
foe,  no  unusual  sound  broke  the  silence  of  night. 

Yet  each  minute  of  that  night,  winged  or  halt, 
slow  or  quick-fleeting,  was  to  every  man  big  with 
import  and  terrible  endeavor.  The  very  air  that  filled 
their  lungs  seemed  impregnated  with  suspense. 

Here  was  no  camp-fire  and  lounging  throng  in 
the  main  square,  but  only  gloom  and  solitude,  for 
the  colony,  broken  up  into  small  commands,  stood 
in  alert  attitudes,  with  straining  eyes,  at  every  en- 
trance. 

The  armistice  was  apparently  at  an  end,  yet  some 
few  consoled  themselves  with  the  fond  delusion  that 
the  Winginas'  intermittent  attack  had  not  been  in- 
spired by  the  Spaniards.  One  or  two  of  these  sought 
Manteo  to  question  him  concerning  the  numbers  of  his 
hereditary  foemen,  but  Manteo  was  not  in  the  town. 
And,  furthermore,  not  one  of  his  tribe  could  be  found 
save  a  few  of  the  women.  The  Hatteras  Indians  had 
disappeared,  men  and  boys,  mysteriously. 

''They  have  deserted  us,"  said  some  of  the  colo- 
nists, despairingly;  but  the  leaders  knew  that,  by 
Vytal 's  command,  Manteo  held  his  men  in  waiting 
far  within  the  western  forest.     Thus  at  a  signal  the 

300 


A  Tale   of  the   Lost  Colony 

friendh"  tribesmen  could  be  called  upon  to  fall  on  the 
W^inginas'  rear  and  decimate  them  from  an  ambush. 

Yet  Vytal  rightly  conjectured  that  this  attack  of 
the  hostile  savages  was  a  Spanish  feint  to  draw 
off  his  soldiers  from  the  coast;  and  even  now^  as  he 
concentrated  the  pickets  in  a  body  to  meet  a  concerted 
onrush  from  the  woods,  a  great  clamor  of  arquebuses 
and  heavy  pieces  arose  from  the  shore. 

The  Spaniards  were  landing.  A  general  assault 
had  begun  from  land  and  sea.  The  sound  of  can- 
nonading, continual  and  deafening,  came  from  the 
water,  while  from  the  woods  the  whir  and  whistle 
of  arrows  proclaimed  a  more  insidious  attempt. 

Vytal  returned  to  the  main  entrance.  It  was  al- 
ready besieged.  The  coast-guard  had  been  over- 
whelmed. Despite  their  first  stubborn  stand,  they 
had  gone  down  like  corn-stalks  before  a  hurricane. 
There  was  no  resisting  the  stampede.  But  the  gate- 
way, defended  by  Rouse  and  his  unflinching  score, 
still  remained  a  barrier.  Through  innumerable 
loop-holes  the  defenders  had  thrust  their  fire-arms; 
and  now  an  incessant«volley  of  lead  poured  out  trom 
behind  the  palisade  like  a  torrent  of  hail  driven  side- 
ways by  the  wind.  Still  more  effective,  however, 
were  the  culverins  on  two  high  flankers  that  stretched 
out  on  both  sides  of  the  entrance.  These  cumbrous 
weapons,  incessantly  vomiting  huge  missiles,  so 
enfiladed  the  aggressors  that  a  sortie  was  deemed 
expedient. 

Rouse  let  the  gate  swing  back  quickly,  and  V^^tal, 
leading  a  dozen  men,  sought,  b}^  the  sheer  vigor  and 
unexpectedness  of  his  attack,  to  press  the  enemy 
back  over  the  cliff  which  the}"  had  scaled.  This 
seemed  his  only  chance.  By  so  bold  a  move  he  in- 
tended to  conve}^  the  impression  that  large  numbers 
within  the  town  only  awaited  a  signal  to  reinforce 

301 


John  Vytal 

liim.  For,  although  Frazer,  disguised  as  the  bear, 
had  overheard  Prat's  observation  concerning  the 
colony's  weakness,  there  had  been,  Vytal  believed, 
no  possible  means  of  communication  between  him 
and  the  Spaniards. 

The  one  chance,  then,  seemed  to  lie  in  the  exag- 
geration of  Roanoke's  forces,  by  manoeuvres  imply- 
ing fearlessness  and  strength. 

As  Vytal  surprised  the  foremost  body  of  attack- 
ers by  his  sudden  sortie,  the  flanker  culverins  neces- 
sarily became  silent,  while  the  men  at  the  palisade 
loop-holes  likewise  ceased  from  firing. 

Now  on  the  headland  there  was  a  general  melee, 
and  to  distinguish  Englishmen  from  Spaniards  was 
impossible.  Only  the  lofty  figure  of  Vytal,  towering 
above  all  the  combatants,  kept  the  anxious  watchers 
from  despair.  Sable  forms,  sjDirits  of  the  night,  met 
and  fell,  while,  above  all,  coruscant  swords  and  pike- 
blades  flashed  in  the  calm  light  of  stars;  and  here 
and  there  a  face,  anguished  or  triumphant,  being 
lighted  up  by  fitful  cressets,  seemed  not  a  human 
countenance,  but  only,  as  it  were,  an  expression, 
bodiless,  the  mere  look  of  a  ghost  haunted  by  reality. 

Suddenly,  a  new  glare,  high  and  lurid,  broke  the 
gloom.  The  tree -trunks  of  the  western  palisade 
were  now  themselves  flambeaus,  ignited  by  stealthy 
Winginas,  who,  having  overcome  the  outposts^  had 
gained  the  town. 

With  a  loud  cry,  Hugh  Rouse  warned  Vytal, 
whereat  the  captain  fell  back  to  the  main  entrance. 
''Quick!"  he  said  to  Rouse.  ''Give  the  signal  to 
Manteo,"  and  Hugh  started  toward  the  western  wall. 

In  another  instant  the  savage  enemy  would  have 
been  surrounded  by  Manteo's  men,  according  to  the 
preconceived  arrangement,  but  Rouse  was  unex- 
pectedly delayed. 

302 


A  Tale   of  the  Lost    Colony 

From  the  small  gateway  which  led  to  VytaFs  cabin 
a  soldier  rushed  out  to  meet  him  with  drawn  sword. 
Even  in  the  faint  starlight  there  was  no  mistaking 
that  scarred  face,  with  its  indrawn  eye  and  yellow 
teeth,  as  the  lips  parted  in  a  smile.  The  man  was 
Sir  Walter  St.  Magil. 

Without  a  word  they  met,  and  their  swords  crossed, 
to  kill,  immediately.  But  Rouse,  taken  by  surprise, 
found  himself  on  the  defensive,  and,  before  he  could 
swing  his  heavy  weapon  effectually,  the  other's  point 
pried  into  his  sword-hilt,  which,  being  wet  and  slip- 
pery from  the  moisture  of  his  fingers,  slid  from  his 
grasp,  and  fell  w^th  a  thud  beside  him. 

Nothing  daunted,  the  giant  closed  in,  unarmed, 
upon  his  antagonist  with  so  impetuous  a  rush  that 
St.  Magil  could  not  thrust  again  before  a  huge  pair  of 
arms  encircled  him  completely.  His  own  arms,  be- 
numbed by  the  sudden  pressure,  hung  lifeless,  while 
at  one  side  his  sword  dangled  uselessly. 

Their  faces  touched,  their  chests,  thighs,  and  legs 
were  locked  together  as  though  with  iron  bonds. 
And  St.  Magil's  breath  came  in  short,  quick  gasps, 
hot  on  the  other's  mouth.  But  at  last,  gradually, 
the  herculean  arms  closed  tighter  and  yet  tighter 
about  their  prey,  until  suddenly  Rouse,  hearing  a 
low,  cracking  sound,  knew  that  his  adversary's  arms 
and  perhaps  a  rib  or  two  were  broken. 

Then,  and  then  only,  Hugh  released  his  grasp, 
and,  leaving  St.  Magil  groaning  on  the  ground, 
rushed  away  to  give  Manteo  the  signal  for  a  counter- 
attack. 

That  moment's  delay,  however,  was  fatal.  For 
even  now  a  great  cry  went  up  from  the  fortress,  and 
a  large  force  of  Spaniards  who  had  effected  a  land- 
ing far  to  the  south  surrounded  it  on  every  side. 
They  had  come  through  the  southern  gate,  by  which 

303 


John  Vytal 

Eleanor  long  ago  had  gone  in  search  of  herbs  for 
Virginia. 

The  fort  became  like  a  thing  alive.  From  its  ram- 
parts a  volley  of  musket-balls  rained  on  the  steel 
headpieces  below,  while  from  every  aperture  long 
streaks  of  flame  shot  out  venomously,  and  in  the 
middle  of  every  streak  a  ball. 

The  defenders,  under  Dyonis  Harvie,  were  offering 
a  brave  resistance.  The  Spaniards  hung  back  be- 
hind a  natural  breastwork  of  hillocks. 

But  suddenly  a  small  man,  unnoticed,  crept  close 
to  the  fort's  rear  and  from  one  side  surveyed  the  muz- 
zle of  a  culverin  inquisitively.  The  gun  roared,  and 
then,  quick  as  thought,  before  it  could  be  recharged, 
the  watcher  whistled  thrice.  Instantty  the  aggres- 
sors sprang  up  from  their  cover  and  assaulted  the 
rear  entrance. 

But  the  man  who  had  first  crept  forward  was  not 
content  with  open  onslaught. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  entire  rear  wall  of  the  fort  was 
enveloped  in  flames  that  curled  up  over  the  ramparts, 
and  Simon  Ferdinando,  the  incendiary,  was  groping 
in  a  subterranean  vault.  " Make  haste,''  said  a  boy- 
ishly excited  voice.  ''I  am  here,"  and  in  a  moment 
Frazer,  having  been  liberated  by  Simon,  had  entered 
the  main  armory. 

The  fortress  no  longer  belonged  to  England. 

Frazer  glanced  about  the  mess-room  with  a  quick, 
searching  scrutiny.  It  was  half  filled  with  a  coarse 
crew  of  his  own  arquebusiers,  who,  bridling  their 
ribald  tongues  half  mockingly  as  he  entered,  await- 
ed his  commands.  A  number  of  women  were  cow- 
ering in  one  corner.  Before  them  lay  the  last  of  their 
immediate  defenders,  lifeless  or  mortally  wounded, 
Dyonis  Harvie  prone  in  the  foremost  line,  his  wife, 
on  her  knees  beside  him,  imploring  him  to  live. 

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A  Tale   of  the    Lost   Colony 

As  Frazer  looked  at  the  women  he  bowed  to  two, 
about  whom  the  others  were  gathered  in  despair. 
''The  king  is  come.  Mistress  Dare,  according  as  he 
promised  years  ago.     He  claims  his  queen/' 

He  turned  to  the  soldiers.  "  Bear  these  two  to  the 
hovel  in  which  Vytal  hved.  Do  with  the  others  as 
you  will.     The  town  is  ours.'' 


CHAPTER  V 

"Some  powers  divine,  or  else  infernal,  mixed 
Their  angry  seeds  at  thy  conception." 

— Marlowe,  in  Tamburlaine. 

It  was  not  long  before  Frazer  stood  alone  with 
Eleanor  and  Virginia  Dare  in  Vytal's  secluded  cabin 
beyond  the  palisade^  and  about  the  cabin  a  Spanish 
guard. 

The  small  room  was  fitfully  lighted  by  a  cresset 
that  had  been  thrust  into  a  chink  in  the  log  wall.  Op- 
posite the  door  stood  Eleanor,  with  Virginia  at  her 
side,  while  before  her,  just  within  the  room,  Frazer 
leaned  easily  against  the  door-post,  talking  in  low 
tones.  In  the  mother's  eyes  there  was  a  calm  de- 
termination, in  the  daughter's  as  little  fear,  but  no 
resolve. 

"Then  you  object,"  said  Frazer,  languidly,  ''to 
being  crowned  a  queen?" 

She  made  no  answer.  He  turned  his  headpiece 
about  in  hand,  pouting  like  a  young  boy. 

''1  should  have  preferred  your  heart's  love,"  he 
declared,  plaintively,  "  but  that,  perchance,  will  come 
later."  His  manner,  changing,  became  forceful. 
"  Oh,  believe  me,  the  end  hath  come.  We  have  played 
several  games,  you  and  I,  but  this  is  final ;  and  now, 
by  God !  1  win !  D'  you  hear — I  win !  England  will 
never  send  you  aid.  This  1  know  from  St.  Magil, 
who  hath  lately  been  there.  Marlowe,  the  poet,  ne'er 
e'en  saw  her  Majesty  to  tell  her  of  your  plight.     His 

306 


JohnVytal:  A  Tale  of  the  Lost  Colony- 
end  came  far  too  soon.  'Twas  defending  the  name 
of  that  trull,  Gyll  Croyden,  he  died  in  a  brawl  at  Dept- 
ford  —  these  poets  will  be  rakes  to  the  very  end/' 
He  paused,  then  spoke  slower,  with  renewed  emphasis : 
''Vytal  is  surrounded  at  the  main  entrance.  At  a 
single  word  from  me  our  force,  which  now  holds  the 
fortress,  \vill  go  to  increase  the  overwhelming  num- 
bers that  hem  him  in.  Whether  or  not  1  give  that 
word  rests  entirely  with  you.  Your  beloved  Ananias 
is  no  more.  Come,  my  beauty,  1  will  make  you  my 
wife.  There !  What  more  can  you  desire  ?  Oh, 
you  smile  ironically;  you  think  we  know  not  the 
colony's  weakness.  Did  1  not  hear  the  jovial  Prat 
proclaim  it  on  the  house-tops  to  his  friend  the  ox? 
You  think  1  did  not  convey  the  information  to  St. 
Magil.  Pah!  'twas  an  easy  signal.  Well  1  knew 
that  if  1  came  off  alive  Vytal  would  range  his  men 
before  me  and  offer  to  hold  me  as  an  hostage  for  our 
ship.  The  signal  was  prearranged.  Had  you  out- 
numbered us,  1  was  to  sink  down  as  if  in  fear  before 
the  musketeers ;  but  were  you  weaker,  1  was  to  stand 
erect.  1  stood  erect.  They  knew  then,  as  they  know 
now,  the  hopeless  condition  of  your  colony.  Your 
colony.  Mistress  Dare!''  He  let  the  words  sink  deep 
into  her  heart.  ''Your  colony  —  are  you  going  to 
cause  their  complete  annihilation  by  refusing  to  ac- 
cept my  hand?" 

He  smiled,  and  added  carelessly:  ''Then  there  is 
John  Vytal." 

For  a  moment  her  eyes  flashed,  while  she  drew  her- 
self up  proudly,  but  at  his  last  words  her  chin  sank 
on  her  breast  and  a  flood  of  tears  blinded  her. 

Virginia  grasped  her  hand,  and,  bending  forward, 
gazed  up  into  her  face  perplexedly.  "  0  my  mother, 
will  you  not  save  the  colony  and  Captain  Vytal?" 

Frazer  nodded  to  Virginia  approvingly.     "  I  doubt 

307 


John  Vytal 

it  not/'  he  said,  "'for  your  mother  is  by  no  means 
heartless/' 

Eleanor  raised  her  head  and  gazed  at  him  so  ex- 
pressionlessly  that  he  started  perceptibly;  all  life, 
all  beauty,  all  consciousness,  mental,  spiritual,  and 
physical,  seemed  suddenl^^  to  have  left  her  face. 

She  went  forward  to  him  like  one  walking  to  death 
in  sleep,  and  the  only  words  that  seemed,  as  it  were,  to 
drip  and  continually  drip  relentlessly  on  her  brain, 
were  these:  ''The  end,  the  end!'' 

He  sprang  forward  and  covered  her  hand  with 
burning  kisses.  ''Thou'rt  mine,  Eleanor — mine  at 
last." 

But  suddenly  he  paused,  startled.  A  low  rustle, 
or  trampling  sound,  as  of  innumerable  bare  feet 
rushing  across  the  town,  had  caught  his  ear.  And 
the  voice  of  Hugh  Rouse,  far  away,  called  loudly : 
"  Quick,  Manteo,  this  way !  Thank  God,  we  may  yet 
save  Vytal!" 

On  this  Eleanor  drew  back  with  a  cry  of  gladness, 
and  Frazer  hesitated.  A  Spanish  soldier  appeared 
at  the  door.     ''Shall  we  reinforce  them?" 

"Nay,  keep  your  men  around  this  cabin."  He 
turned  to  Eleanor,  snapping  his  fingers  carelessly. 
"Foh!  a  fico  for  the  battle!  You  see  1  value  your 
love  higher  even  than  our  cause,  and  whether  you 
will  or  not,  1  shall  force  it  from  3^ou."  With  this  he 
started  eagerly  toward  her,  arms  outstretched  and 
eyes  brilliant. 

But  Eleanor,  quick  as  lightning,  drew  from  her 
bosom  a  small  poniard  and  held  its  point  to  her  breast. 
"Another  step,"  she  said,  calmly,  "and  I  stab  my- 
self." 

He  paused,  in  genuine  amazement.  His  supreme 
self-love  had  never  dreamed  of  this — that  a  woman 
would  rather  kill  herself  than  become  his  wife.     "  1 

308 


A  Tale    of  the  Lost   Colony- 
no  longer  need  to  save  others/'  added  Eleanor,  tri- 
umphantly; ''it  is  myself  1  save/' 

For  a  moment  he  stood  abashed,  the  very  picture 
of  chagrin ;  but  then  the  light  of  a  new  impulse  leaped 
into  his  eyes. 

''Ay,  but  there  shall  be  another/'  he  cried,  "de- 
manding your  sacrifice,"  with  which,  before  she  had 
divined  his  intent,  he  grasped  Virginia  in  his  arms 
and  carried  her  to  the  doorway.  "  She  is  almost  as 
beautiful,"  he  sneered,  "and  much  younger." 

"Stay!"  and  Eleanor,  swaying  as  if  she  must  fall, 
cried  out  again  in  anguish,  "  Stay,  1  implore  you — 
stay!" 

He  turned,  laughing.  "Nay,  Mistress  Dare; 
"first  throw  away  thy  poniard." 

With  a  strenuous  effort  to  stand  erect,  she  obeyed, 
and  the  weapon  fell  at  her  feet.  Evidently  satisfied, 
he  now  released  his  hold  on  Virginia,  and,  swagger- 
ing forward,  with  an  air  of  bravado,  put  an  arm  about 
Eleanor's  waist,  while  the  daughter,  utterly  dazed, 
stood  speechless,  watching  him. 

"My  dear  love,"  he  murmured,  caressingly,  "rebel 
not  against  fate.  We  shall  be  very  happy  as  king 
and  queen. "  It  seemed  as  if  there  were  a  tone  of  real 
tenderness  in  his  voice,  while  gently  he  led  her  to  the 
door.  But  her  own  voice  was  silent  as  the  grave,  and 
again  her  whole  being  seemed  hopelessly''  inert. 

Before  passing  out  he  bent  over  her,  and,  with  both 
arms,  crushed  her  to  him  in  a  tense  embrace.  Then 
he  started  back  and  his  face  went  pale  as  death. 

A  loud  clash  of  steel,  a  roar  of  many  voices,  a  whirl- 
wind seemingly,  and  Vytal  stood  facing  them  in  the 
doorway. 

Like  a  flash  Frazer  drew  his  rapier,  but  too  late. 

The  soldier,  infuriated  be^^ond  control,  thrust  deep 
and  deep  again. 

309 


(( 
(( 
(( 


John  Vytal 

Frazer  fell. 

Vytal  turned  to  Eleanor.  ''  Come  away,  quick, 
by  the  rear  entrance.  Manteo  and  Rouse  have  over- 
come his  guard.'' 

The  wounded  man  groaned  pitifully.  ''  1  pray  you 
send  me  a  priest/'  he  pleaded.  ''There  is  yet  time 
for  a  short  shrift.  Your  heretic  parson  will  do  an 
there's  none  other." 

"1  have  no  messenger  at  hand,"  said  Vytal,  ''and 
cannot  go  myself." 

At  this  moment,  however,  a  slight  duskj^  figure 
stood  in  the  doorway,  to  which  Frazer  motioned  feebly. 
It  was  Dark  Eye. 

"Send  him,"  said  Eleanor,  mercifully. 
Nay,  for  he  must  guard  Frazer." 
But  the  man  is  dying." 

Nevertheless,"  said  Vytal,  bitterly,  "he  is  not 
yet  dead." 

"  Then  let  Dark  Eye  bind  his  arms,  though  it  seems 
cruel." 

Vytal  assented,  and  in  a  moment  the  captive  lay 
bound  hand  and  foot  with  thongs  of  hide  from  the 
Indian's  girdle. 

Virginia  came  to  her  mother.  "1  will  go  with 
DarkEj-e." 

Eleanor  rested  a  hand  on  her  daughter's  head,  and 
turned  to  Vytal.     "Is  it  safe?" 

"Yes,  with  him." 

Together  Virginia  Dare  and  Dark  E3"e  left  the 
room,  onh'  hesitating  for  a  moment  beyond  the 
threshold  to  turn  and  wave  farewell.  "  Have  no 
fear,"  said  Manteo's  son.  "The  Winginas  are  put 
to  flight ;  the  Spaniards  have  left  the  town.  Later 
we  meet  you  on  the  shore."  The  cresset  flared 
high;  its  radiance  fell  across  those  two  slight 
figures  side  by  side  in  the  near  darkness. 

310 


A  Tale    of  the    Lost   Colony 

The  old  world  and  the  new  had  plighted  troth, 
and  here  were  the  s3^mbols  of  an  everlasting  union. 

In  another  instant  the  picture  had  vanished — 
White  Doe  and  Dark  Eye  were  hidden  in  the  forest. 

''  Now  come/'  said  Vytal  to  Eleanor,  and  together 
they  left  the  cabin.  ''We  have  won/'  he  declared; 
"yet  lost  completely.'' 

She  glanced  up  at  him  with  renewed  apprehension, 
questioningly.  In  silence  he  led  her  to  the  shore. 
"See/'  he  said,  and  she  looked  up  to  the  headland. 
A  sheet  of  flame  sprang  heavenward  from  the  town. 
"And  look!"  Two  shadows  were  receding  slowly 
southw^ard.     "Those  are  the  enemy's  vessels/' 

"  Then  we  are  exiles  once  again." 

The  soldier  inclined  his  head.  "  Yes,  exiles.  Eng- 
land will  never  know  of  our  existence ;  history  will 
account  us  futile  in  all  our  endeavors,  and  inexplica- 
bly lost."  His  voice  sank  lower.  "Five  English- 
men remain  alive  besides  myself." 

A  cry  escaped  her  lips.     "  'Tis  impossible!" 

"Nay,  'tis  true." 

"But  why,  then,  do  the  Spaniards  beat  a  retreat?" 

"Because  Manteo's  force,  though  fatally  delayed 
by  Hugh's  encounter  with  St.  Magil,  arrived  in  time 
to  surprise  them,  and  because  Frazer  kept  his  guard 
apart  from  the  main  attack." 

She  rested  her  hands  on  his  arms  and  came  very 
close  to  him.  The  glare  of  the  burning  town  illu- 
minated his  face,  showing  an  expression  that  even 
she  had  never  pictured.  The  stern  tensity  was  re- 
lieved, the  despotic  tyranny  of  his  mouth,  the  im- 
perial crown  of  deei>cut  lines  on  his  brow,  the  por- 
tentous fire  of  his  eyes  —  all  had  been  subdued 
beneath  the  touch  of  love.  Drawing  her  closer,  he 
kissed  her  forehead  reverenth^ 

The  darkness  of  night  had  lost  its  meaning.     The 

311 


W. 


John  Vytal 

merciless  fire  was  seen  no  more  save  as  they  fomid 
it  reflected  in  each  other's  eyes. 

They  were  one. 

Yet  it  was  all  so  essentially  natural  that  they  ex- 
perienced no  surprise  nor  wonder  in  the  realization 
of  their  unity.  It  seemed  but  the  end  of  a  primordial 
beginning,  the  reversion  to  their  souls  of  a  pre-natal 
heritage,  w^hich  but  for  a  season  had  been  withheld 
that  by  sorrow  and  suffering  its  perfection  might  be 
assured. 

For  long  they  stood  in  silence,  their  very  beings 
seeming  to  co-blend,  each  the  other's  complement, 
both  a  perfect  whole. 

At  last  Eleanor  spoke,  and  he  felt  her  tremble  w4th 
the  words.  ''Let  us  never  again  speak  the  name 
'Frazer'  even  within  ourselves." 

"  Nay,  never,''  he  said.  "  1  thank  God  he  hath  gone 
from  out  our  lives." 

But  Vytal's  thanksgiving  was  premature. 

Frazer  lived.  In  the  cabin  on  the  cliff  above  them 
he  lived  and  moved.  Slowly,  and  with  great  pain, 
he  contrived,  by  working  his  way  on  knees  and  el- 
bows, to  reach  the  wall,  high  up  in  which  the  torch 
still  sputtered  fitfully.  Then,  although  a  stream 
of  red  had  marked  his  passage  across  the  room,  he 
placed  his  bound  hands  between  the  logs  and,  with  a 
strenuous  exertion,  raised  himself  until  he  stood  un- 
steadily upon  his  feet.  And  now  it  was  not  only 
the  cresset's  light  that  flashed  in  his  blue  eyes.  A 
look  of  victory  surmounted  the  expression  of  pain, 
as,  stretching  out  his  arms,  he  held  the  wrists  im- 
mediately over  the  torch's  flame.  The  fire  scorched 
and  blistered  his  white  skin,  burning  deep  and  slow- 
ly. At  the  last  his  teeth,  gnashing  in  agony,  met 
through  his  underlip,  but  still  he  allowed  the  flame 
to  work  its  will.     For  the  thongs  that  bound  him. 

312 


A  Tale   of  the    Lost  Colony- 
being  damp  with  blood  and  perspiration,  had  not 
yet  been  severed. 

Finally,  however,  burning  like  fuses,  they  parted 
slowly  and  fell  to  the  floor.  Then,  bending  forward, 
he  unbound  his  ankles,  stifling  a  moan  as  his 
scorched  fingers  untied  the  knots.  Suddenly  he 
was  free;  and,  hastening  as  best  he  might  to  a  life- 
less Spanish  soldier  who  had  been  killed  in  guarding 
him,  he  was  in  a  moment  not  only  liberated,  but 
armed  as  well  with  a  musket  ready  primed. 

Having  thus  provided  himself,  he  once  more  fell 
to  his  hands  and  knees  and  crawled,  like  some  dying 
animal,  into  the  forest.  With  a  superhuman  stoicism 
and  determination,  he  descended  by  the  winding  path 
that  led  from  Vytal's  cabin  to  the  shore,  while  a  cir- 
cuitous trail  of  blood  marked  his  progress. 

At  the  wooded  margin  of  the  beach  he  paused  and, 
leaning  against  a  tree,  staggered  to  his  feet. 

Two  figures  stood  before  him,  distinctly  visible  in 
the  light  of  the  consuming  flames. 

But,  as  he  raised  his  weapon,  one  of  the  figures 
moved. 

Vytal  had  heard  a  rustle  of  leaves,  yet  the  warn- 
ing sound  came  all  too  late. 

A  short  tongue  of  fire  flashed  beneath  the  branches, 
almost  simultaneously  a  musket-shot  rang  out,  and 
Eleanor  fell  prostrate  on  the  sand. 

A  cry  like  the  death-note  of  a  soul  rose  from  Vytal, 
and  then  the  soldier's  face,  in  the  first  instant  ter- 
ribly anguished,  w^as  transformed  to  the  face  of  wrath 
incarnate.     His  eyes  were  blue  flames. 

He  rushed  to  the  strip  of  woods,  with  sword  quiver- 
ing. 

But  Frazer  lay  dead,  his  face,  lighted  softly  by 
the  stars,  showing  no  malevolence  in  its  smile,  more 
than  ever  boyish,  guileless,  and  amused. 

313 


CHAPTER  VI 

"My  heart  is  as  an  anvil  unto  sorrow, 
Which  beats  upon  it  Hke  the  Cyclops'  hammers. 
And  with  the  noise  turns  up  my  giddy  brain." 

— Marlowe,  in  Edward  the  Second, 

"Thus  shall  my  heart  be  still  combined  with  thine 
Until  our  bodies  turn  to  elements 
And  both  our  souls  aspire  celestial  thrones." 

— Marlowe,  in  Tamhurlaine. 

VytaL  turned  automatically  and,  with  his  old., 
martial  tread,  crossed  the  sand  to  Eleanor.  At  her 
side  he  knelt  for  a  moment  transfixedly  in  silence, 
then  sank  down  upon  her  and  grasped  her  to  him  as 
if  in  an  effort  to  revivify  her  lifeless  form  by  the  sheer 
might  of  his  love  and  grief. 

But  now  a  dark  shadow,  seemingly  no  more  tan- 
gible than  the  shadow  of  Death,  emerged  from  the 
forest  and  stood  over  them. 

''My  brother,  grieve  not;  perchance  life  is  yet 
within  her.''  The  Indian  bent  down  and  listened. 
''1  hear  no  breath,''  said  Manteo,  at  last,  ''nor  heart- 
beat.    Her  kirtle  is  stained  w^ith  blood.'' 

"Ay,"  said  Vytal,  "she  hath  left  me." 

The  Indian  pointed  westward.  "  Come,  my  brother, 
let  us  bear  her  to  my  people.  They  have  gone  to  the 
main,  and  your  countrymen  with  them.  There,  far 
from  the  sea  and  evil  ships,  they  will  live  in  peace. 
Thy  Spanish  enemies  all  have  retreated  before  my 
men.     Come,  my  brother,  the  voice  of  the  forest  calls 

314 


John  Vytal :   A  Tale  of  the  Lost  Colony 

you.  There  is  no  other  way.  Did  not  the  stars  at 
thy  birth  foretell  that  thou  shouldst  be  a  queen's 
defender  and  the  brother  of  a  king?  A  queen's  de- 
fender thou  hast  been;  the  brother  of  a  king  1  be- 
seech thee  to  be  always.  Am  1  not  that  king  of  the 
prophecy?  Is  not  the  depth  of  the  forest,  solitary 
and  ever  dark,  the  fitting  home  for  one  in  whose  soul 
all  happiness  lies  buried?     My  brother,  come!" 

Vytal  returned  his  gaze  in  silence,  neither  grant- 
ing nor  denying  the  earnest  plea. 

''  John  Vytal,  you  number  but  six  Englishmen  in 
all.  To  remain  is  to  murder  thyself,  e'en  though 
thine  enemies,  Ferdinando  and  St.  Magil,  have  re- 
treated hastily  in  a  canoe  to  the  Spanish  vessel.  On 
the  mainland  we  shall  be  safe,  if  upon  thee  we  can  de- 
pend. The  man  of  God  and  Margery  Harvie,  the 
White  Doe  and  Dyonis,  all  have  started  thither  under 
the  guardianship  of  thy  servant,  Hugh  Rouse,  who 
believed  you  wholly  safe  with  my  people.  Thus, 
with  thee,  there  are  but  three  warriors  in  all.  Shall 
the  greatest  of  these  not  go,  as  he  hath  always  gone, 
to  the  place  where  he  is  most  needed?" 

''Ay,"  said  Vytal,  vaguely;  "that  is  here.  Let 
us  defend  the  town!" 

But  Manteo  pointed  to  the  palisade,  across  which 
the  first  dim  light  of  dawn  was  slowly  breaking.  A 
gray  mist  or  dust  was  rising  from  the  enclosure  and 
floating  softly  out  to  sea.  ''Those  are  the  ashes 
of  your  Roanoke  settlement,"  said  Manteo,  "which 
the  breeze  would  bury  far  away.  The  fortress  lies 
smouldering,  and  much  of  the  palisade  as  well.  All 
is  lifeless." 

Vytal  watched  the  gray  veil  unwind  itself  across 
the  headland.  This,  then,  was  a  fitting  symbol  of 
the  climax  in  which  all  the  fortitude,  patience,  en- 
deavor, exertion,  prayer,  and  yearning  of  years  had 

315 


John  Vytal 

culminated.  Ashes!  All  gray  ashes — the  hope  of 
England  and  of  himself. 

Finally  he  turned  to  Manteo,  with  a  deeper  con- 
sciousness, and  stooped  to  raise  Eleanor  in  his  arms. 
But  the  Indian,  who  had  watched  her  face  intently, 
restrained  him.  ''  Wait,  my  brother,  there  is  yet  hope. 
1  will  instantly  seek  two  herbs  in  the  forest.  'Tis 
possible  the  one  will  heal  her  wound,  the  other  awake 
her  from  sleep,''  and,  so  saying,  he  entered  the  woods. 

Once  more  Vytal  knelt  beside  her,  while  slowly 
the  dismal  drone  of  the  surf  seemed  to  creep  nearer, 
until,  entering  his  brain,  it  wore  all  thought  away. 
To  reason  was  impossible,  to  strive  for  reason  a  tort- 
ure that  racked  him  through  and  through. 

Yet  at  last,  appearing  to  have  aroused  somewhat 
from  his  stupor,  he  drew  his  rapier,  and,  passing 
his  fingers  over  the  blade,  muttered:  ''The  bodkin, 
the  little  bodkin!''  with  which — worse,  far  worse, 
more  terrible  than  any  cry  or  moan  —  a  laugh,  a 
loud,  harsh  laugh,  came  from  the  broken  heart  of 
the  man  who  had  rarely  been  heard  to  laugh  before. 

He  let  the  rapier-hilt  fall  softly  to  the  sand,  yet 
held  the  point  in  one  hand,  and  with  it  touched  the 
artery  of  his  wrist.  He  was  conscious  now  of  one 
thing  only — utter  failure !  He  felt  certain  that  Elea- 
nor, with  all  his  hopes,  had  left  him.  It  was  but 
the  natural  result  of  his  life-long  battle  against  Fate. 

"  I  am  alone,"  he  said. 

For  many  minutes  the  rapier-point,  moving  im- 
perceptibly, scratched  his  skin.  Yet  he  made  no 
thrust,  for  the  horribly  incongruous  hilarity  of  his 
expression  gradually  died  away,  leaving  his  face 
once  more  grave  and  unrelaxing. 

Suddenly  he  rose  and  stood  as  if  on  guard,  not 
against  himself,  but  another.  At  this  he  called  aloud, 
as  though  Rouse  stood  near.     "  Quick,  seek  Manteo 

316 


A  Tale   of  the    Lost  Colony 

and  the  tribesmen!  Bid  Dyonis  protect  his  charges 
to  the  end.  See  to  it  that  Frazer  is  shackled  heavily. 
We  win!''  His  eyes  flashed.  "Send  to  me  Roger 
Prat  and  Marlowe.  They  are  men.  Ho !  Marlowe, 
come,  come  quickly  to  my  aid!  Is  't  possible  thou 
hast  forgot  that  night  on  the  bridge  when  side  by 
side  we  fought  to  save  her?''  He  paused,  thrust  into 
the  darkness,  then  reeled  and  let  fall  his  blade.  "  0 
my  God — 1  dream."  And,  sinking  down  once  again 
beside  Eleanor,  he  looked  first  into  her  pallid  face, 
and  then  at  the  shroud  of  ashes  that  was  borne  out 
lightly  to  be  folded  with  the  veil  of  the  sea.  Both 
mists,  gray  and  commingling  on  the  water,  seemed 
the  cerements  of  his  dead  ambition.  For  not  only 
the  sea  had  failed  him,  but  the  land  as  well.  And 
this  was  his  only  message  to  England — an  ephemeral 
breeze,  ash-laden,  from  the  West  he  had  come  to  win. 

The  cries  of  many  birds,  awakening,  filled  the  air. 
The  stars,  paling  slowly,  died.  The  breeze  stirred 
summer's  heavy  foliage  mournfully. 

Vytal  shut  the  light  from  his  eyes,  and  from  his 
ears  the  sounds  of  morning.  With  head  bowed  he 
then  relived  his  life.  And  the  moments  when  he  had 
been  with  Eleanor  rose  pre-eminent  above  all  other 
memories.  He  thought  of  the  court,  of  how  by  his 
glance  toward  her  he  had  been  deprived  of  knight- 
hood. He  recalled  vividly  the  fight  on  London 
Bridge,  and  once  more  saw  her  standing  in  the 
Southwark  gatewaj^  He  remembered  their  meet- 
ing on  the  fly-boat,  and  first  saw  her  praying  in  the 
lanthorn-light,  then  leaning  on  the  bulwark,  when 
they  two  had  been  alone  in  a  world  of  mystery.  At 
the  last  she  was  bending  over  him  as  he  lay  in  the 
armory  after  the  battle  of  the  ships.  Once  again 
her  voice  was  calling, ''  John  Vytal." 

317 


John  Vytal 

The  repetition  of  that  far-off  tone  seemed  a  hving 
echo  from  his  heart. 

"John  Vytal/' 

He  moved  shghtly,  and,  as  if  in  a  waking  sleep, 
looked  down  at  Eleanor;  then  started,  and,  bending 
closer,  strove  for  an  answer  to  the  dream. 

In  very  truth  her  eyes  were  open. 

"  Eleanor. '^ 

"Yes,  Hive.' ' 

His  hand  swept  across  his  forehead.  "0  God, 
'tis  a  dream — again  a  dream." 

Yet  now  another  hand  touched  his  brow,  and,  where 
sight  had  failed,  that  single  touch  convinced  him. 

"1  am  not  alone,"  he  said. 

She  grasped  his  hand  feebly.  "Nay,  not  alone. 
1  think  'twas  a  trance.  All  the  grief,  the  sudden 
happiness,  the  terror,  the  joy,  overcame  me.  Yet — 
yet — 1  am  sore  wounded."  Her  eyes  closed;  she 
breathed  with  an  effort.     "Whence  came  the  shot?" 

"From  Frazer,  even  as  he  died." 

An  expression,  first  of  pain,  then  of  absolute  peace, 
crossed  her  face;  but  she  made  no  rejoinder,  for 
strength  again  had  failed. 

He  brushed  back  a  strand  of  hair  from  her  fore- 
head, stifling  a  deep  moan.  For  once  his  very  soul 
seemed  falling  to  an  abyss  of  fear.  Fatalism  was 
overcome  by  yearning,  the  power  of  endurance  by 
the  acute  agony  of  doubt.  Uncertainty  laid  an  icy 
chill  upon  his  spirit — the  spirit  of  a  child  lost  in  the 
universe.  Essential  grief  stood  face  to  face  with 
essential  joy,  each  expecting,  yet  despairing  of  the 
victory.  And  the  result  of  this  meeting  seemed  to 
ravage  the  elements  of  being. 

Once  more  Eleanor  gazed  up  to  his  anguished  face. 

"Strength  returns,"  she  said,  with  a  wan  smile. 

He  trembled  and  turned  toward  the  forest,  con- 

318 


A  Tale   of  the   Lost   Colony 

sumed  by  impatience  of  the  soul.  ''Manteo  hath 
gone  for  heahng  herbs/'  he  said.  "0  God^  spare 
her  to  me  \" 

Long  he  stood  with  head  bowed  and  eyes  gazing 
into  her  face ;  long  he  stood,  a  bleak  rock  of  the  shore, 
stern,  rigid,  fixed,  striving  to  force  upon  himself  the 
utter  calm  of  self-surrender  and  finality. 

But  at  the  last  she  stretched  out  her  arms  and  drew 
him  closer  to  her.  "God  is  good,''  she  said.  ''In 
my  heart  he  tells  me  1  shall  live." 

Yet  even  now,  as  the  spirit  of  promise  seemed  to 
be  breathed  into  their  souls,  Eleanor,  reading  Vytal's 
face,  realized  that  beneath  all  his  silent  hope  that 
word  ''failure"  had  not  been  obliterated  from  his 
great  masculine  heart.     For  the  colony  of  Roanoke 


was  no  more 


Dost  not  see,"  she  asked,  brokenly,  "that  success 
is  ours?  ...  Of  a  surety,  never  again  will  Span- 
iards seek  to  land  on  this  Virginia  shore. "  Her  words 
were  scarcely  audible.  "Their  leader  is  dead,  their 
lesson  learned.  .  .  .  Future  generations  will  find 
here  a  perfect  security  .  .  .  because  we,  the  first, 
have  suffered  .  .  .  and  yet  won."  She  raised  her- 
self to  one  elbow,  bravely  subduing  her  faintness, 
and  pointed  toward  the  headland.     " Look." 

The  two  mists — the  mist  of  ashes  and  of  the  ocean 
— were  gray  no  longer.  The  first  flush  of  morning 
suffused  itself  over  sea  and  land. 

Eleanor's  eyes  sought  Vytal's,  but  now  from  the 
light  he  turned  and  looked  steadfastly  at  the  broad, 
deep  forest  of  the  west,  with  prophetic  resignation  in 
his  gaze,  as  at  a  world  not  wholly  lost,  yet  only  by 
others  to  be  won. 

Her  hand  touched  his  gently. 

"  1  am  not  alone,"  he  said ;  "  nay,  not  alone." 

THE   END 


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